The Ruthful by Cat Jones

The figure x shows a deepening sky.   
A map of peerage.

A dying star pulses, and is resolved.

Who is righteous overmuch.  There were   
plenty of years. Was said to be tractable,   
if the tractability condition was fulfilled.

A little blood, in the ocean.

One can make out, in black, the escorts   
of a pilgrim caravan. Then the faithful.   
Then the moment when the road brightens   
and takes flight.

The wind of this world, our turning.

Little baron, spreading, softening.

by Cat Jones

published in Diagram

 

Note: This poem is an assemblage of very large and very small things, and I suppose conveys a feeling, as when looking at maps, of being in the sky.

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