Poetry

An Individual Equinox Suitable for Framing

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Light under the sky, the window not open,
disarray inside, pale grey near white out,
a stone stock still moment, and then motion,
a woman in that faint place, a surrender to

what is in vain to rest from. The rest. To rest
there. Anatomy enough to accommodate
departure in segments, thousands of questions.
The architecture isn’t only belated,

it’s entirely gone and in its place a green
that looks nothing like a life was lived there.
Examples, names, dates, seen
flowers, irises edging a back wall. Where?

Yes, everything said not once but several times.
The flowers coming back in different colors
like communications sound various, dime-sized
coins spilled on the counter, the hollow

sound of change. Same thing but from another
angle looks like fast film blurred to capture
the low light. Every day a night of redeparture.
Above the windless sea a once-known ether.

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