Gustaf Sobin

tracing a thirst

for Ed Foster

called it: tracing a
thirst, the poem
as it

sluices a
passage; with each,
dry

utterance, edges
towards its
own

ob-
fuscated source. no,
not the

world, the
world’s, but,
per-

haps, its
very
postulate. what the

winds
would lap, and the
tongue,

ultimately,
muscle: breath, like
so

many
empty bubbles, brought
to

that pleated lip