An Alembic

there is a fog. Between twilight
and the frost, a ghost feather
across the glass, and ring-pass-not bridges this abyss

a ten, two twenties – thirty-five at best

her warning.
her warning.
her warning.

invent wonderment

threaten to glance with the best of them, then and now, know it for what it was
then threaten to replace the cause, dance through the rest of them, then discard your flaws
as you pass through that last hoop

silence is your loss
speak to the silence
is your loss, spake the righteous, speak like god has spoken lies, seek what light is lost in life
tracked through frozen:

her warning.
her warning.
her warning.

a few simple steps become progressively more complex
with each passing morning
with shapes in tandem. Pure modeling sunset – lament winter’s ending:

her (wandering) warning.