making sense of sunrise


we watch it plop 
up again and again 
all saffron spin
all lozenged hope 
all miracle-raised 
invisible string prop. 

it slow simmer singes 
a waking sky while 
you and i try to make 
something of its hazy 

is it the dot on a question 
mark caught by curious 

is it a scar
-let apostrophe
simply stumbling by? 

are there more 
below the horizon, 
all ellipsis’d in a stack, 

and if we blow it 
all dandelion-like, 
will it come drifting back? 

it’s all a blur, a skystone 
slur we can’t wedge into 
words. and so we stop 
asking and just sit here 
knowing it will
catch fire again tomorrow. 

In April, we poem.

This entry was posted in April PAD 2022 and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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