An eclipse shapes overlapping shadows that soften each shadow's fragmented edge in a tendriled silver maple named grandpa. Crows chatter on grandpa's arms, and moths soft-winged and covered with dust, gather. I wanted a newer and brighter light so you tightened the dry fire coil and split a white ash and set it on fire you fused the transformer with pear-shaped brass and made lightning from a dome of sky directing asteroids toward the river we said this would be our crystal life gathering in the upper atmosphere propped up with the songs of wooden sparrows Let someone else find the autumnal sign that tumult is upon us, hanging from the trees' shroud of the riparian zone on another gray day dancing in the howling ice you've hidden in your cheek. The locals cross the gap wearing safety glasses and iridescent vests the laborers no longer need now that the tiles are drying in the sun; now that the wild grasses have been cut back to opaline iridescence with lavender calcinations, and sodium and talc and tin is hand-blown and polished until black as lava. I'm seeing hawks again gather ashen rabbits against the snow, rising on the valley with its square and breathy buildings between ice threads on my lashes. |
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