Today I will buy sand for incense, but first I must
put the clothes away, shower and shave the legs,
donate plasma for money, be a woman
on a motorcycle in a skirt and pink laced shoes.
Then I can twist wire into a tree
for the dead and dying,
a tree for the young woman I met on the bus
from Lewiston to Boise to Salt Lake
where we parted, me to a cab waiting by the curb,
and she back up to Idaho Falls for 90 days
in treatment. I will burn sandalwood for her.
The scent is like a campfire joy.
as much as I can I will be there
for her and all those whose bodies convert themselves
into a whirl of smoke and heat
that is never destroyed.
I can’t see it.
I don’t know where it has gone.