Evening, Myocardial Infarction

Kate Bolton Bonnici //

Of what can be felt: how the heart dwells
At earth’s door, which is the gate of light 
Lowering leafèd veils in sequence. Slight 
Scent traces the familiar and the spell-

Bound. What’s not dreamed? A hart swells
Near to bursting at dusk’s blood birth: bright
Sidereal dust, ventricle touched, twice-sight 
Sighted-in. Telescopes or rifle scopes fell

The sublunar in the woods where nothing’s still. 
Still, the pines glow full with all possible
Answers to what you do not know to ask,

You who know eye and bearing and will.
When day falls some roads come uncrossable.
Respite is a mask. Quiet. This quiet task.

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