This one from the China Pavilion
is of wheatstraw. I mailed it to you

with its tiny boat and one stitch nightingale.
I felt the red dot go down over the water.

This morning I want it back to touch and see.
Did I imagine a book was not enough

and I must send both souvenirs?
If I have no way of knowing the place I stop,

I must go back to “it was the best of times”
and read straight through to love’s unembroidered
END.

Maxine Cassin
from her book Turnip’s Blood
The Sisters Grim Press, 1995

Used with permission of the poet’s estate.