750 Readings

Sun Spreads Out

Patterns depend
upon rain.
                                   Bright always
                                   ever-beating
                                                                 the world becomes
                                                                 a building
                                                                                                         becomes a wound.
                                                                                                         Confounded

in order:
fire opens
                                   then my chest
                                   is a closet—
                                                                 and here shade
                                                                 is probable.

                                                                                                         Seen as an arc
                                                                                                         but truly a circle,

Specter, thy name
is chemistry.
                                   Now our gables
                                   grow down
                                                                      to the gate—
                                                                      evincing
                                                                                                         no possibility
                                                                                                         of lifting the sky.

Plus, we’ve seen
pilots push buttons
                                            to land planes.
                                            I want you
                                                                           to put my hand
                                                                           on the vapor.
                                                                                                              I want to acronym
                                                                                                              every part of our day.
My body
is reading.
                                Better yet,
                                I’ve turned over.
                                                                         Upside down
                                                                         colors of you
                                                                                                         rain through.

Posted 08/19/11
Books by Sally Delehant
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