Monday, July 26, 2010

Harvest

Harvest


Geese flock like galaxies.

Night dips a flickering brush
in blue-luminous pools,
stirs red ether to star -a slow
striptease of oil-stain smoke rings
spins gossamer gyres.

These high ceilings float roomy bright
questions condensing their cores.
Cartoon anvils, prop scythes.

Star harvest could be picking corn,
raking pressed cider leaves to silk
humus, or ants milking aphids -
together, they thread the hairy sunflower
stalks, scale azaleas, tread trickles of dew.

Neptune rains diamonds. Imagine.

--Meaghan Russell's biography is presently under construction. Please pardon the dust. She lives in Baltimore, Maryland and has work forthcoming in The Bitter Oleander.

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