Sundown || Natalie Crick

That deluge of haze
just before sundown.

Spring shakes Winter’s hand

Now the day has truly gone.

Street lamps glow
a sodium pink

When blue milk pacifies,
the copper moon sliding up a sleeve of glass,

her luminous lake
drowning the city,

a black felt hat against
heaven’s empty dome.

An indigo deer slips back
through the shadow of night-green cedar.

This was originally published in Fall 2017 edition of The Helix.


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