YVES BONNEFOY'S CHANCE

Yves Bonnefoy's
one game of chance
at the inn
his hand trembles
out the window sill
closing out the cold
once lodged with flowers
by the snow fields
admitting to the sun
his shell shocked hour
of rising at the form
by the sea waves to him
along the boulevard
dodging the kisses
of warmth on the fireplace,
logs seeing the archery
signs of the old nobility
on restless future targets
by a chess board
of bishop and pawns
to transform all the puzzles
as he close his eyes
the water plants expand.