Take the Time You Need
Lauren Camp

Though lately I have not been choosing
what to look at, dark

accretes. The sky has begun to cradle its negation. I drove
all day, passed a house with the roof
burned out and space bent. Black creek. Semi

after semi. Wanting to get here, deciding, if what intends to go on is

in that direction, up—around, I would move to understand
its texture, and be told of the trajectory, the further

lit, long, as many
times as I would need

to link thought to color on the eye. The telescope testifies.


•


Ponderosas stand straightly one year and another in the closet
of forest. The air is black acorns. Lathing wings this morning
             on the trail succeed
                                        to shift breath for a minute.

I like the reminder that lifespans are not even a microsecond.


•


Here again night. I’ve been gorging on what appears
                   side by side—the past thrust in its weave—and how far

and at what years away I belong. A consequence of this is
that I will return

home and practice not only what arrives but the truth
I’ve seen move through itself and fleeing.

Nothing is fixed. I stare
through the small circle of telescope glass, leave the queue and return to look again.

When last month, I saw nine swallow-tailed kites in a cauldron
with my limited eye, I knew enough

ways time takes us forward.
I was in Texas in a concert hall of marble.

Another person was wearing red; we were listening
             to whispers. Even then I wanted

sense bared from the lapsed blur.

Lauren Camp serves as New Mexico Poet Laureate. She is the author of eight books of poetry, including In Old Sky (Grand Canyon Conservancy, 2024). Her work has garnered fellowships from the Academy of American Poets and Black Earth Institute. In 2022, she was chosen as the fourth Astronomer-in-Residence at Grand Canyon National Park. Other honors include the Dorset Prize and finalist commendations for the Arab American Book Award, Housatonic Book Award, and Adrienne Rich Award. www.laurencamp.com