Friday, July 22, 2016

PREMONITION

In this hot and 
wavy season of dearth,

when all seems  
as dust 

and the sticky smell 
of dill,

when
your brains have turned

to pure 
nectarines—

bruised
and lately kept artificial-

ly cold
to protect 

and to slow 
the spreading 

blush of
their bruises;

that's 
when

it's just starting to get 
so those 

aspects
you'd been hovering over,

greedy 
to protect,

livid to start
dying over—

are finally 
almost 

ready—
to open up 

into
symbols

worth
living for.

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