Sunset

The sky a kid’s face covered in baby food
Orange streaks ending in root chunks
Opaque memory of the future
Clouds rushing as if late for work
The occasional crow’s swoosh into the distance
Like a paper airplane across my dining room
A gravitational heave arcing up in a paradox
What a clever fox you are waiting
In the clumps of your own strategy
Marooning your desire in feet of delight

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