("Foggy Night") |
He lay prostrate
like a leaf
to it's end
having no further
to float
and seeming thus
flattened
felt adornment
too lofty
for so low
removing
pieces
to reassemble
at hands breadth
he rose
listening to the breeze
whistling through holes
(The morning was dark and foggy, but the streetlamp caught metal and blinked off the surface. I saw two large silver stud earrings side by side on the cement. They had not fallen from ears, as the backs were on. They had not fallen from pockets, as they were both facing southeast, parallel and close...like parentheses around abandoned words. They had no dew. They were recent. I picked them up and placed them closer together on a cafe table, risen, to find new ears.)
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Thank you for listening.