All places have been stolen
from space
and all the mind’s mayors
have left
My friends are lovely whisperers
like the Wright brothers
tall as doors
loosely closed
I don’t even need to be right
I’ve a shape
and there is so much rain
to hold
Christ gazes into it
my crystal nail enamel
like a window washer
on the highest floor
And far below’s a tree
he made
come up in the black sun
of macadam.
Standing, standing
like my journey’s second leg
in shade the earth is chasing
like a dog
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