I opened the eye of Orion to watch the summer flicker

Downward like a fist-full of crinkled paper.

Some pique with seasons, others pique with time.

As if she eased the tips of those trees to her white-bright match

The hillside woke to embers, over and over, back to the gravel.

A child, entranced by their dance, she points them into step with

Her pink un-ringed finger. She thought perhaps

she would be more graceful. I want to tell her:

It’s falling. When you stand again, then, they will applaud.

—ECW

 

Poem 59 Edited – Poem 59 Original

Meet My Twin Poem: Poem 73 Revised