Thin Place

White ash,

you wait for me

 

as I will wait

for someone.

 

What but skin

feels the wind,

 

what darkness

makes distinctions?

 

Breaking down

dusk and dawn,

 

housewreckers

on horse scaffolds

 

syncopate 

their hammers.

 

Brick dust

drifts like smoke,

 

tents of habitation

withdrawn,

 

hinges of habit

undone.

 

Devin Johnston (USA, 1970 -)

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