by David Russomano
It rains on nights when the leaves have gone,
coating every branch in black,
drenched. The cold light from street lamps
caught in the boughs turns to spiders’ webs—
silver fragmented lines extend
out in shaky patterns like cracks
in a mirror met by a fist.
From the center of a mirror
struck by a fist, silver fractures
extend out in shaky patterns,
shimmering like spiders’ webs of
drenched black boughs back-lit by simple
street lamps on a rainy night when
the leaves have taken something with them.
David Russomano hopes that you'll make amazing little musical beasts and share them at seaquence.org.
