photo_camera by Trang Ta
Nasty echoes transfer from civilization to civilization.
Opened eyed nights struggle to get beyond dawns.
I’m a careful woman— riding inertia’s mule—avoiding
cumbersome truths. I’ve seen angels sit silently in
larch pines, felt the holiness of steady rain.
Loneliness is not sustaining.
Delicate breaks apart first . . .
Moonlit prey
Smug lions
Amble away.
