the last night: under water
the thick ropes of rain
dangled down from the eaves
and flew into the wide windows
picking up the canvas in a twirl
Lennon in the crystals of light
and the river like black glowing lava
reflecting the lights but stretching their white
the crowns and shoulders of tree up with navy
that closed room with its own air
pull-towel like we used to wipe our skates
in the dark red alcove, light shining above the door
thin webs visible along the windowpanes
fingers closed on the wet branch
the leaves green like taut skin, luminous
hands pulling the liquid tail of skirt inside
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