Spell

Then comes a change over me,
Turning at each joint
In the sidewalk, all objects
New, imagined in this enclosure.

Strangers observe
My body in belief
That it forecasts weather.
I catch all lies.

I lend two secrets as
Natural consequence to 
The commotion I make
Passing on the road:

That the scabs along my wrists
Tell time, that every
once perfect thought I have
is lost as heat.

I keep another close
At hand: the power that “stay” 
Has always had over me.