The day goes gray as the days are wont
dusk comes with all the fixins, swift wings and
furtive rodents, fast traffic shaking
the walls with the songs left
thumping in its wake, the note held
too long, too much sound to leave
much for the music to be. It stands to reason
there will be some shifting in the sands,
what passes for castles collapsing,
the tower taken by the tide, built
bit by bit of this knowledge
that give and take taking more,
the sky lit like a mirror or
clear like a glass gazing against
the remembered bones of this slip thin self,
touched by the givens that
gave out, the reasons on the label
read for this labile animal a broken seal
the spirit a fizzle of this burning bridge of flesh,
furls of a flag snapping aware
its truth is to wear the wind.
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