Lie of Sundown

Prayerful squirrels have finished kneading their earth-dough …

Tell a lie of sundown, siren of choice now limited
moon running late as a jilted acid buzz
pocket walkers, hands stowed, but warm enough to strut
bold enough to step on cracks in the sidewalk

Your ivy glows butternut in the shade of the El
while we get on with our lives, secretly preparing for our deaths
wondering whether you will turn green next May
hesitating to admit it is something we would consider

No reservations needed to visit the night’s Plutonian shore
Just bring your breath and your skin
along with knowledge of every tree stump you’ve ever passed
and every bible you’ve ever owned

Your dogs will remember you, even in the night
Perplexions and clouds of empty pumpkins
shouted refractions of defeated dreams
retracted promises lying in wait at sundown

Crotchety, tender veil, your fabric falls too soon
Prayerful squirrels have finished kneading their earth-dough
acorn calzones hidden from December
Troubled words clear throats of lovers disguised as the wind
humidified habits congesting laughter
pearled and immobile at the thought
of sundown arriving as ravenous as a wolf
instead of the sound of swirling, dry leaves

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