three moons would
at least
rope six tides. these
hours after the february incessance
quit i could still hear
rivers lost to the underground
crashing ceaseless glacial falls. three
north shore beacons brought cold
glow
to the heavy air
that prepared for its morning descent
upon the city
a blanket falling in slow motion. three
beacons perch as kings
asleep atop thrones gilded. bats
and birds come summer
might know them for navigation as
young upwardmoving flock to
their factory powder come winter. three
peaks
soft guards to the crags and bluffs beyond
too tall and windswept for
their roots to ever adorn boots. this
very wind is what battered
these peaks
open to open water
and to the unpatterned
torment of ocean. water flows
and blows with the immortal workers
molecules of radon
breathed and rebreathed by all life
this thin photosynthetic
skin
has ever known.
