Birds weeded in the interval of days
they traveled green refuge maps the south
empty at its center
We had been given something incomplete
union of our bodies so on days mine might conceive
you noticed me beside several rocking chairs and tables
covered with blue cloth
In those days I went to work on my geography, a sound
from wind in trees like rushing water
with scant description, the bark
collaring sun
as our little event continued to widen
published in TYPO 13
art by Kelcey Loomer via flickr
Robin Reagler 