spattered measure
what beauty O sad world through answers
the screech of
white,
O
says the light.
O
says
the moon behind
all
of beauty:
What
of
it,
around
a
stately
ugliness
the
screech
of beauty:
O
says
the dumb hanging
world, lost
in its bitterness,
silv’ry
birds answering to measure the moon.
Plume: Issue #108 August 2020