Having made it this far
Harshly coloring
The air with scrapes
Of sound
Or trembling
In the electrons
Like color
The milk has run out
And the coffee
Chimes acidly
Ferrying us
From this catch
Of moment
To the next
For fear
That we are
Mutely doing it
On our own
A thought intolerable
A morning hot
With lemon water
Empty brown
Bottles crowding
The kitchen, the cat
Secretly frenzied
As the invisible strings
Of breeze animate
The spare
Limbs’ leaves
Across the retarred street
Only a human could need
Something so
Redundant
As an answer
Looking skyward
To the stars that exploded
To compose us
Inconsolable settlers
Of a land we
Know less and less
Now and again
The starlings crowd
Like seeds atop
The gutted bough
As the radiators
Begin their spitting song
Splitting the air
For warmth, for love
This sound of you
Breathing in
The dusty bedroom
As outside a stray
Cat laps bugs
From the speckled grill
Of a minivan
The various forms
Sustenance takes
Breaking the mind
Into wonder
And resolve
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