Neither Light of the Sun
Battered sugar-white
door to the pump house
as we midnight-spot
reflection: dog and man
upon snow, wordless
for an ocean-sky
of torn ebony scarves.
And in the miles
upon ether-exploded
sick room miles,
we curse pain-worry.
Dog and man upon snow,
we curse with laughter
winter-brown thistle...
as if it is an angel.
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