Heat rises. (It gets trapped
Underneath the ceiling. Outside,
Clouds roll in, and fog sticks
To the hill and soon it’s wide
And it fills the valley and the streets,
A crow flaps from a lamppost.
This is the world.) First, the girl
Fell in love with the avocets on the coast,
Next, you couldn’t see the sun
But you could see the light, it meant the sand
Would still be mute, it meant that the sidewalk
Would not allow you to be unmanned,
The true yellow of the sun
Was orange and white, and the blend of your skin
And your thoughts, of your bones and your words, seeped
And let a vaulting silence in.
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Yaacov David Shulman