by C. D. Wright
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Yesterday
nothing was unusual a rainy March morning
there were scores of starlings on the ground
she had been thinking about what he said
What has been said is said often
Sifting for some interlinear significance on the pallid grass
the birds accumulated chromatic density
He stopped her (not vice versa) in the rain to tell her
he had been thinking the voice beginning to dematerialize
against the slur of cars
neither of them moving just yet