A Dusting of Angel
Of drifting paintbrushes bristle tipped
dipping and canvas dance lightest steps
slow, then quick, quick, quick,
and catch the drop before it drips.
Of water boatmen skipping meniscus
in skated imprint upon quicksilver mirrors
and scant quicksand land, land – ho,
and tacking across bay before it blows.
Of memory tracing, a dusting of Angel,
raindrop tangles twists my tongue,
shake sieved frosting and come, you come
where love dies old before love was young.
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