SPOILS​

go through                                                                                                              

                    that

                    town

littered with light

and

       i’ll follow on a two-rutted

                                 road

                                 embezzled

of

all direction.

 

probably,

                  i am lost:

                           you

are,

       at

least, confined.

and old.

and ardorless.

and unfragmented.

 

there’s

              thunder in the cloudless

              sky, so

maybe

it’s

      not thunder. we

think the blue is chipping off;

          all the earth is changing color.

 

the union

       of earth and sky

                       is

                       dripping over

                                       the top of a glass

and we are

always silent.

             i know

                that foot-

                        steps

are not

what you like to hear

          in your shadow.

                            mine

only make you turn a-

                                    round

                   and muscle

your face. there is

no wind left to color

                            your

hair or expunge memory,

and you’ll 

                  pass

                  through

the

town’s limits like a defeated army

             and i’ll

                     follow:

unseen or un-

recognized

like

a crow.

 Livio Farallo