Sunday, November 15, 2020

field of vision

The geese fly by

at the angle my heart leans,

the love that didn’t make it

different enough, the love

I have to close my eyes to see.

The sky scrubbed clean by 

yesterday’s rain, wet earth and 

the ghosts of petrichor frame

these wild gray givens—

wings and trees and the runaway 

day trailing vapor, 

the thinking spread thin,

lore and pain and all the grievances 

gathered up in the husk

flitting through the imagery, 

coloring sight on the inside as

the words swarm and stick.

Migration, mitigation, the slow

sweet thrill of your approach 

invisible on the outside,

eyes wide to everything 

that remains to be seen.

No comments:

Post a Comment

the habit

The dog is barking and you’re sick in the dark, surrounded by the sounds of the wind and television, dying hard with every habit. Now the li...