I know not the owner of this lantern,
nor the destination of the flame a-flicker
I know not why I follow it; be it warmth or light
if my pursuit is abandoned I possess neither
a crutch to guide against the tangled roots at my feet
nor a hand to brush away the dangling moss a-head
Let the lamp abandon me here and bid farewell
Shall I be found red-lettered, in the crossing
of an Archimedal globe mundane as
dashed lines flash on surface flesh
Thus I hang. An arched heel, toe, and I
touch the ground below no further,
my tips of hair brushing only air.