weewilkie

By weewilkie

Atlas in a leaf

oh acer

seemingly sun hunched,
weighted
by the light’s call
to rise
and yet projections
insist
we must not overcrowd
the spitting distance
on this street
between me
and all the yous;
the stunning tumble
of touch there
leaf
leaf
leaf
upon
opening leaf:
Atlas
shoulders the sun's insistence
carrying the world
where a garden grows.
 
I pass it at a safe distance, of course.

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