Wednesday, December 7

A Painting of the Messiah

At flash, the rising
morning yawns
the window’s edge
& my shirt buttons
spider-eye the view—
The great reveal
of my neighbourhood ,
platter’d in fluorescence

I am a sucker
for occasion
,the blind mimicking
morning wood
; I am a sucker
for the neighbourhood
at seven-forty
in the morning

If I tired should
slouch toward work
then please me
, sun ,
& turn the
neighbour’s steam
swum out cozily
from boiler( hot shower)
into that
religious orange
that rolls bobs
dances faintly
in the air
& drifts up
higher into nothing.

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