Day after day dark smoky birds were among us
Those glass crows flying through the mirrors
Darting to and fro between us and our likeness
For
god’s sake if we ever truly angered one
Another
our brilliant black wax effigies very likely
Would
fall our broken hands our cracked voices
After
poetry suffocates in the tar of desire how
Much
more meaningful the dawn of things
The
stillborn logic of loneliness the clean space
Of solitude governed
by what numbers what
Hedge where a crow huddles behind greenery
I
am standing in this trampled light ecstatic now
Knee-deep
in a tepid pool of something you
Could
ignite with a match if you were here
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