All skied over with blue lip smear
Tin-snipped water sheeted the way onward
Drowning in its light.
Seven lights from seven beacons plumed the cheery shoreline
Hoarsed into silence by the nightless cavalcade,
The bright-lit pantomime.
What if an inky canopy stepped down into this jewel?
Would its footprint rouse the waters?
Would they slide, jelly-like, into storm sewer horizons
And the air quicken and depart
And four stakes tied with builder’s string mark plans for a new river
Under a blueprint firmament?
Almost it seems.
Meanwhile steel towers fend the day.
Daylight draws loops and cloud-curlicues in the festival air.
3/4/2011
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