Comes Another, Another After Leaving

Calm carries pockets of crisis-

stones in a dress, nights of quiet

 

rooms to cry or chew

numb limbs then something

 

begins: taillights swerve, words

kick the body to flight, thrill

 

against an exhaust pipe throws

stones out the window

 

into fields where men wait, quiet

for a dress to fall away.

 

A new calm returns now a moon

against an unlearned breast-bone.

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