it's not raining
At dusk,
the center of town is calling
and it’s not raining
anymore.
smoke or steam
fills the streets, anyhow
and everything
is
unrecognizable
and
unmoving.
the mist recurs—
unfurls like a dream
looks over the shoreline
glittered and littered with light.
oh, portend
&
fasten
threadbare, you carve through
the luster
and your face is there,
somewhere
lost in the brume.