The sun a dead clock flashlight-grey
& fastened to the western reach
by the darkening chandeliers of ice-water clouds
I think of a woman in a summer dress
at an art museum (the ethnicity in her smile
at least four European capitals
Glasgow, Berlin, Sarajevo, Warsaw)
she at the Cezanne
she at the Cezanne
& has since stepped out of the summer dress
stepped into a different neighborhood
in a different city imagine the vocabulary
that might synthesize my cold animal remorse
& here are the words:
& here are the words:
for 2015 NaPoWriMo sonnet #28: Interview with a Democrat Who Rose from the Grave to Vote for Kennedy
for 2015 NaPoWriMo sonnet #30: Interview with the Blogger beneath a Rambunctious Ceiling Fan
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