Containing The Number 1

My own eyes in a flashlight
are a cat’s eyes, a plaything, jade of
Prometheus.

Pink light, orange light,
the light of ice that comes off in chunks,
winter’s hurting gives
clues
to the owl’s demise…

perhaps one day
the glow of fission
will reimburse us all…

Relates me to my memory,
two dances

that multiplied, split in half,
country thirds

like mated
corn