Interrupting the season isn’t only sepia burnt

Patches—and green is a memory you almost believe

A call about reality is coming from the sun, the thermodynamics

Of fire—feet remember when permitted

To move apart—there’s a rehearsal right now

For the removal of anything impervious—including

The fear of remaining optimistic

Long enough to collect laundry—clear bare

Earth and empty paper to begin

And the weariness of to begin—

Is not Antarctica

A measure of sound—given

This blank—no you can’t talk yourself

Out—instead embrace the calamity of love