From notes from the understory


notes from the understory (layer 20, direction one)

All of it begins. I’m soaked to the skin by a sudden downpour.
My gray silk blouse won’t come free from the skin of my chest,
my arms. I abandon the meanings of silk and skin to
a moth-wing thinness, fluttering skyward.

Sun returns to warm the blue question of what sky might
become, which remains answerless as it fills with what
seem to be clouds, but they’re only …

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