While walking the red water
into the bloody sky, above pitch
black trees, pilgrims to the shore,
a hundred thousand starlings fly
my chest to the blade-blue corners
of the world. I flap my coat, they rain
black cinders onto the lake, rekindle,
resurrect and flash; the clouds’ fire
feathers spread further eastward, and
there’s calm like I’ve swallowed the
wind; suddenly colossal, I hunt the sun
beyond the curve of the known earth.
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