A netsuke balancing above us
only says goodbye. Without pretense
it is a penis and a mask.
Yesterday, we saw three foxes,
those that would eat our apples
before our orchard burned. Since,
a figure rests in our bedroom’s darkness
and we guess what Focault knew.
Visibility is a trap.
We look for beauty in the objects
around us, and sometimes do not notice
when we are lied to.