Luke Kuzmish

autumnal (fragment)

 

Ellyn picks up a stick
that lays in the road

mustve come from
the white oak over there
when it stormed last night
I woke up at 5 from the thunder
crashing on the predawn
without any sympathy
for the three doubles
in a row
I pulled

me
I don’t know trees
their names or leaves
and I sleep heavy and sound
through precipitation and guilt
caffeine and bad dreams

 

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