The shine and the fall of it,
All of it,
All of it —
The drape and the spill of it,
Brightly lit,
Brightly lit-
Light from the nickel-and-stone edge of the high walkway
Falls and skitters around tiny feet and claws
Little cutting killing things dulled by scraping all morning long
One At a Time
Portion by portion
Gust by gust
Flint-strike by flint-strike
Undo the dust
***
Drag by drag
Tell it to the wind lashing the corrugates roof,
Tell it to the rising price of gas
Tell it to the small clinic called Mercy
Or the girl behind the glass their who takes insurance cards
Across the bright glass:
Thin lines have been pulled, already, down the pane
Half smeared at the tops of some are the remnant bulbs, the shape of where a drop actually struck