Honeybee to pollenless
branch, “try”
the diadem, go “with” before

“Do you see the sky?”
“Do you hear the dogs barking?”

Yes. And yes both.

That is what happened,
that is to say
when I knew it was happening.

Sky the background.
Dogs now stopped.

Keen element of grandeur, limber scissor
for what’s woven. Dead branch
stripped but staying.

What was raked, what burrowed.
Diversions thrown one
by one over the rail,
chimera of thought

Sky cluttered with trees.
Dogs sleeping.

Caught my eye both
coming and going, does the shift
look like derailment, didn’t
I hire you to murder me, to marry
meant to bind: ache
to shoulder, sudden
to shatter. Laced
as in embrace for no camera.

Sky asleep.
Dogs listening.

Lisanne Thompson’s work has appeared in nocturnes (re)view, 26, Xantippe, and Five Fingers Review. She received her MFA from St. Mary’s College and lives in Berkeley, California.
*Photo courtesy of Jody Trappe.
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