Giorgione,_the_tempest_07

Sky Lock

 

Miguel Cullen

 

The town’s crop
Beneath the coy spring sky.
The churning mercury of cloud
Conceals an etiquette to be observed –
These wheels are notched –
There is a code.
‘Mi yegua es la luz mala
De las crines de carbon’

The safe’s aeolate configuration
Solves.
The bow arcs
In pure pulse
And blows a white dart
Through the twelve axe heads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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