In Withholding Judgment
-for Jay Nahani Braunstein
Sometimes, everything’s a bit too much of a lot,
you say—this tweet, that lie; this skewering,
that critique where beauty takes a beating
in the streets, and truth tries to do too much.
No, I think, it’s not ridiculous to pray
lesser lights create a space between logs
in fires damped down, so we’ll listen.
Now in this dawn, our black cottonwood;
leaves and their secrets, and in the east,
this yellow against gray. Aren’t we
dark boats, one mast asleep? No, not yet?
Trickster leaves; shadows flicker.