fading along
with daylight, sure I’ve said
enough
fading along
with daylight, sure I’ve said
enough
clocks of sunlight
and shadow striking at
severe angles
the dying gold—
of fall sunset—trees shedding
fiery garments
all our perfectly
engineered straight lines rendered
as shadows
trying to picture
grain—indiscriminate—
waving in winds
you stopped chopping to
ask, “What’s a good metaphor
for metaphors?”
sunset—wheat blown
in each gust’s direction
without concern
saffron
sun, azure, and shadows
razored from black cloth
home finally
and the city vanishing
behind rain
slow combustion
in decay—another dusk,
bruising magenta