As if there is nothing
cats' mew to rake embittered grief
silence shucked off the burning bush, tulip, azalea...
Enamel on the shrew's teeth clicking
into deeper silences than moon's used to.
Every turning leaf drops a secret:
an army in every moment—no surrender.
Shadow’s lip cocked half-open, startled
at dust's every mote, the unbearable lightness.
No rest tonight, defenses staring wide-eyed
into war—small battle after small battle.
Each engagement less and less,
every sun's horizon victory.
No win, situation unfolding.
Star's rise and fall mapped on stone.
No stone—cat, cricket, shrew...
James S. Proffitt