A
Small Autumn Still Life
Last evenings walk through a picture of town -
Careful to keep to the harrowed strokes
Mindful of losing our way in unresolved scumble -
there’d been a brush with skinning paint
How else to explain morning coat sleeves
laden as honey bee legs?
Sixth past Main, a good chunk of Fourth defaced in a
leisurely smear
reds and golds woven into the warp and weft
violet night bled into smudged highlights of wet
pavement –
Remember you broadcast a hand toward that break in the
clouds? –
tatting the hard margins of a full moon
pillow beaded with creamy light
a few luminous grains still clinging to your face.
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