after Hart Crane

I am tired of the intricate
names of things—the genus,
species of animals, flowers.

Let calyx remain unsaid,
calyx, undevoured.

I will not name feathers,
as what I utter might usher
wings toward the dead.

Let wild hooves
remain only thunder
so no arrow will follow.

Quiet the name of the sea’s
creature, her fins, needle
of horn mending the waters.