Breadcrumb #427
BILL LESSARD
wind that twines lack
deciduous doubt,
slender and peaked
a widowed harvest for the fork
shoulders flung into their own apotheosis
the inside of our coat turned out
our year turned the colors
nesting in the stem
brown white teal
the leaf that becomes air at the touch
arrival as season of leaving : :
equinox
birds raked
from the trees
blanket drawn to the neck : : the new horizon
wistful, watchful
wind that walks uneven heels : :
the body lifeless, levied, grievous, wind that finds center
at our center
our year narrowed into a thick yellow custard upon the tongue