To wash four panes

in the same light

and lay her bed among them

steaming with the hunger of violets

watching vines attach the ceiling

to a mirror chain

we met in red air

of a deep back hallway

surging past the stairways

of a hidden church

climbed out along the window smashing branches

of a fallen elm

valleys were filled

with a gelatin of hot

swift moving shadows

where she arranged the cut

transparencies.