I just gave a butterfly a funeral:
assayed it to lake Michigan
with its wing-powder and parasites.
the ferris wheel next to the water
was blinking in time with Shoreline,
slowly drawing in breaths.
They arranged 22 sour apples
in the shape of an arrow
and pointed it at the rising moon.
All the boats surveyed,
rocking like old birds
in the benevolent wind.
1 comment:
pupariuh liked this
Post a Comment