In late spring-early
summer
a yellow dirge settles
sways from one side
to another gathering
limbs and leaves
around felled trees
and the requiem pieces
that have since
made themselves
comfortable
lolling in Twain’s story.
The film slouches
over and around
the hollows
settles
in the abscesses
and collects
wherever it can
till the surge
of a thunderstorm
cycles it away.

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