NR Digital


by Sarah Ruden


An edgeless bird
Made of words
Passes above the yard.

Dense as a hoof,
Skids from the roof
A block of numbers, falling, striking hard.

In the water tank
Stirs, with a clank,
A serpent, gorged on images, and sleeping.

Thy will, Thy will be done,
Though this administration of the sun
Sees Rachel once more weeping

But now for comfort turning
To electric vermin burning
Through her Comforter –

I loved You through it all.
I love You, yet I wait
Inside the slick, the quicksand plasma gate.

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