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Objects in Mirror Are Closer than They Appear

they are right next to you
in the lanes, hugging a shoulder

*

they twitter in rafters
calling down to your mess

in rays, crescents

the white curled backs
of snapshots tucked in a frame,

eyes of the dead

*

there is a gimbal lamp, ledger,
a table of solid deal,

clocks & militaria

a dirty blotter
its crusty bottle, a plume

*

there are beetles and boojum
specimen jars decorated

with walkingsticks, waterstriders
and lunar moths

a treatise on rotating spheres

*

this swivel chair, worn,
from some years past

a few doubloons, powder horn
musket bag and tricorne hat

a cannon, its yawning round

*

they are closer than comfort
closer than night breaking

over the mountain face,

empurpled, its silhouette
ragged, silver

unquantifiable in pixie dusk

*

closer than power lines
casting shadows on brush

breath, heart ticking
the prepared delay

as twilight settles
in waves and crests

a water fowl, hooded owl

*

an avant garde,
a backward glance

—Peter Gizzi



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