Waning Gibbous

Early,
voices heard of
mumbling flies
and crickets.
Breathing flowers
inhaling for a dying cloud,
a passing cloud
in the shape of a
deer.
Though deer rot
on sides of roads
furs for Corpus Christi,
the train howling
to orphaned wolves.
Wolf folds into man
his coat vowed to silence
by the wind.
Greater things
like God.
a God who whispers
Warmth to the feet of thieves
Darkness to the belly of stars
Shadows to the blind, who press
without a flicker
themselves to the wall.
Purring eyes
foliage dust and bone.
Her legs sweep
broken pegs on tracks
towards the station
rust anchoring the bridge
where she was captive
where she learned to fly.


e. chayes