--Jeffrey Bean
Let sky's soft crush come in sleep.
Let squirrels huddle, clouds shine. Please
a white-fresh fire. Please a kid's feast, her mouth
stuffed with ice-ash, enlivened. May stoplights
flame across miles. May salt splash, trucks
grumble. Let gray moths tremble,
dogs wallow and shove. Please smooth a field's
face. Let shovel, let curse, let birds
hunch over wires and pines. Bring a lustrous
season of bones. Let the old men
take down their parchment and pens. Let mummy cloth
grip what is gone. Please a museum
of smoke, a hall of rooftops. Make me and the trees
forget what we have lost, put on
our silver clothes in stillness, our skin shining,
our rushing done. Let the ground be the sun.
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