on withholding info from a distant sun


Tell all the truth but tell it slant 
Emily Dickinson 


that certain slant of light doesn’t tell us much,
and since we can’t touch its warmth the whole 

truth is not yet known. they tell you we revolve,
that it absolves us. baptizes us in fire and burns

off things unsaid. they say we’re spinning and 
getting closer day by day. they warn that things

are warming. they crow louder than the roosters 
that greet it, meet it with their loudest caw. they 

claw their way to power under its more hidden 
hours. we know it lends light to the moon. we 

know it’s food for plants, and thought. we know 
it’s caught up in the ways a flower falls, a long 

day fades. we watch it rise, a phoenix. we catch 
it plopping into sea. we hold it hostage, lozenge 

on our hungry tongues. they tell you its stories in
brightest hue. but they never tell you if they’re true. 

In April, we poem.

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

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