as it is

A boy leapt for a ball.  He

read its satisfactions, the cheers
cupped, back slaps cohere

to some kind of truth.
He stiffens them to a board,

a place to pin his butterfly schemes.
Girls, work, city, a fretwork of

distances.   No

hesitation, he reached the ball,
curved a bomb.  Lifted the sea

clean from the land
to cloud in eyes spilling another funeral.

kj15feb10



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[Brian Edwards]

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