after Jon Wonham's "Exceptionally"
Exceptionally
evening comes.
the year has ended
or begins again
under a raven’s stark screech.
across the earth
so many worlds harden
into our own. my eyes close
then wake again to grey
morning, which comes
exceptionally to this town
like a man making his way
home after a long journey
only to find the address changed
the kids, the wife, the dog
have moved on. my own light
slips me away, dressed in the
unfamiliar garb of one too many
I slink past the backyard,
my leafless tree,
a buried garden.
I would call out, call back
exceptionally to someone
or you,
but I am caught crackling
in the fire of our extinguishing world,
in this exceptionally bright wave
for time. of white cement under
the cobalt sky
only this speakerphone remains.
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