under his eye

in the crooked end
of a thunderous day

all these colors
marching cross the floor
in turncoat uniform

the way you meant to go
in dark straight lines
but the labyrinth picked you up
on tiny golden bird wings

dropped you down
into the well

of expectation

deliverance in perfect
pirouette form

spinning leaves and knitted landscape
into this holey shawl

of absolution

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