I Choose This Day, Micah Ruelle
Light, your light,
slides
across the uneven skin of the earth-
longing to be waves;
to swell and surge like curled waves
caught in a horizontal ring.
_
Unlike the son of humanity;
not rising, divine,
a vertical reprimand,
accentuating the stark, defiant trunks of trees—
marking the slanted backs of men,
and their grotesque, handwritten notes
filed away in their brains.
_
Their shadows lengthen then,
like clockwork,
shrink into dark halos,
stagnant.
-
But Light,
your light magnifies,
washes out into infinity,
the flakes of daylight,
as dew on spring leaves, surprisingly—
about to blot me out.
Yay, Micah!
