Bleachy sun, the equalizer. Sun
is a pill my eye’s mouth takes.
That the river takes. That the train bridge takes.
Sun is a pill that the shadow, strung
from the air above the forgotten lake, takes.
Shadow takes one, erases itself.
Becomes the event’s decoration.
I’m loosely watching this happen when
all of the road’s abandoned clothes
gather by the tributary.
By word of sun, they are absolved.
Lemon, periwinkle, affinity.