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Blue Shift


ISSUE:  Fall 2014

The day moon the
                                     spirit of the morning

more than the dim gray
                                     sun on the other

side of the sky the
                                     other color      ghost

cold color of snow
                                     on the horizontal

Summit Street ten degrees
                                     his truck’s been parked

at the curb all morning
                                     next to the guard

railing around the
                                     dugout pit and pipes

the neighborhood in
                                     darkness then in light

depending on his need
                                     to work or power up

and heat our homes
                                     he goes back and forth

from cab      coffee and
                                     his sheaf of schematics

to the high side of
                                     the hole with a torch

he’s a ghost floating
                                     in the weird snow light

he’s tugging his
                                     heavy gloves     snaps

his head again
                                     how lonely the

universe feels and
                                     flips his eye-shield down

to go to one knee
                                     flicking on the torch

that burns a carburized
                                     flame no bigger

than a marble at
                                     more than half the heat

of the surface of the sun—

 

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