"The war light"
Mathias Svalina

The war light

shines thief in the machine,

 

always ending

in a hanging.

 

Dock the cotton

in war night.

 

The zoo is dire:

it hurts

the light.

 

Was one Susan

the wharf?

 

Was the sister

nearby, silent?

 

The shriek startles

the boulders, sunning

 

the ferns

& summit.

 

When diesel stains ether,

the viral lease,

the verses we hear

 

are nevers. A hump of days

wound round the altar,

 

the inseam of a scarecrow.

Behave, weary,

 

chiseled & white.