Theory of Sand
by Kate Partridge

Our voices in the dark across the improbable sand
hills sheathed in mountains. No flares. Red-beamed

headlamps and the tug of clouds, Venus in its brightest sequins
a little gaudy, the ridge holding us up across its spine. We

strummed it with our feet like strings. Nothing is too early except
in our expectation. We already knew blankness, had heard the song

of innocence—its high-pitched arc floating out of car windows
and across the meadow somewhere back East. l was dressed in black,

and for days the sand ran out from my toes. There is no point in being any
more sensitive. In one story, the stars twist above us like a lid clicking shut.

In another, we lie prone on the surface, for once not interfering,
as we wait for the house lights to dim, the curtain to rise.

---

from the book THINE / Tupelo Press

“Theory of Sand” was written after a visit to Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado, and it includes italicized text from Adam Hadhazy’s BBC article “What are the limits of human vision?" This is one of several "Theory of..." poems in my collection "THINE," which borrow their titling scheme from Muriel Rukeyser's 1935 collection, "Theory of Flight."

Kate Partridge on "Theory of Sand"

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