askewing eyed sight

splitting our image

and sewing the pieces

at torn seams–

a subtle reconfiguration

of what we thought

we saw–

the steps, the gateway,

the figures living

in betweeen–

we see.

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the incident

a shot rings out from the cold.
a dark and endless silence
follows in the concussive aftermath.
a shadow in the light of
a streetlamp with a form
so amorphous, it can hardly
be called a form at all.
no blood flows from the dark.
no wincing cries from
a body in pain echoes from
the shadow just beyond the
yellow glow of the streetlamp.
no shuffling of feet, no
pounding steps of a fleeing gait.
just a memory
etched into the air.