Fare
Don’t watch the falling light skewed amber
like comet tails pulled under the regular earth sky.
People are outside their cars looking up
and trees mop the darkness with wet strand-like swabs.
Green expires to blue,
the tail-like spin dims to the ample part of new flight.
Levitating
more like it.
Your eyes
more like it.
Spiral
and the whole world folds,
Their heads knotted together
and the car’s radio
silent. Phone pocketed,
or piled in the
driver’s seat,
but don’t watch this
because you’ll leave.
And stay awhile because you won’t.
–
How high trees puncture, and quips of owls
echo (figure unseeable), and the flat, bodiless
beach makes sound on sound.
Flares of light spring in the sky,
falling to water glass-like, undeterred and burning.
The new watchers pay their fare
for the night,
then leave.
It’s an easy retreat of sound and light and us,
all whole-entire, pried open,
then at peace.