The sun shrinking to a vanishing point
of light gives me a jolt, like the small shock
the faulty wiring of my heart
shoots through it now
& then. Where a little child sees an o
for orange, I find a black hole
my days feed into, one by one, the way
words sentenced to stand together for life
add up to a period’s needle-eye zero
nothing passes through. In the next breath
sparks fly across the sky
I gaze into as if looking
to tell my future in a shining well
of ink, & the scene goes dark as these letters
suffused, in their time, by so many shades.
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