Refurbished

REFURBISHED


The ladybug dies 

wedged in wicker, 

is spray-painted green. 


Disassemble yourself. 

Free trampoline. 


Not one to jump

to conclusions, but if

even pipe-smoke throws

a shadow in moonlight,


nothing is ever full-

nothing, right? 


The trees agree to lower

the veil and reveal the bare

strip of road which runs

behind the house. 


The white roar of leaving 

never leaves, and the porch 

light flickers but never goes out. 


In a world of partially resurrected

things, the quick and the dead

dance a tango then collapse

in a tangled heap to make 

furious love till morning

shakes the can and picks

a fade-resistant shade of light.

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