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nothing more than November,
no one other than you.
regarding the horizon
at once a smoky gray
stack of engines churning rain
and a collision of ravens
flown into an empty factory.

the sky reveals a steel contentment;
disrobes its vestment of storms
and is faceless.  morphine numb.
at once clean and reptilian.
a chameleon hidden within the air
when scales of ice grow like lichen.

afterwards nothing else is warm, we
are as polished as winter trees
and spider legs.  when the bell
rings at a distance it sinks
through us like our shadows.
:icon72livingairplanes:

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May 14
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