Jericho
by Heath Joseph Wooten
Redundant
to say it crashedinstead
that rain slickthe road velvet
beneath
your tires
the next day a bird
and before
a tall glass ofdon’t you think
the horizon
is glazed
with gluethat red strings
hold togetherthe wild horse
what is it
anywaya small day
that as usualset
an onionyour fingers move
to the biasthe infinitesimal
possibility
of a mailboxoh
dearyour hands
that red lighta colt emerging
falling:wake up
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