From Rising,
Falling, Hovering

by C. D. Wright

                                                        Yesterday

nothing was unusual    a rainy March morning

there were scores of starlings on the ground

she had been thinking about what he said

                                           What has been said is said often


Sifting for some interlinear significance    on the pallid grass

the birds    accumulated chromatic density


He stopped her (not vice versa) in the rain to tell her

he had been thinking    the voice beginning to dematerialize

against the slur of cars

                                neither of them moving just yet
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