MOVING Poem by Duo Duo

Winter afternoon, mice skate around
I pretend to move out
I hammer here and there, taking nails out
of painting frames
and sleigh a desk to the center of the field
finding the horizon full of people,
each person a handrail of a stretcher
lifting something—the flesh of the earth
quivers like gold, the trees around
all dressed like me, with a black jacket on top
the lower part—the bare trunks
read: forest for sale.