–
a small black wing
without its bird
skitters across the road
scissor-tail flycatchers
rise and fall and rise and fall
between the wires
like a wonky oscilloscope
that has forgotten its creator
such a curiosity!
is it the hurricane?
the pull of the blue moon?
the vacuity of multitudes
holding a collective breath
as we try to remember
the first half of our
last sentence?
under the bell jar
the white feather falls
alongside a coin
–
