Circuit someone, somewhere
       

Circuit someone, somewhere
circuit—crack—chip
someone says listen.

Nuance and pace plays, how I miss you, what a tune, it makes me say we—

We, the pale arrivals, pale sedentary
see our last—
our last roofs, mountings,
awnings go down, tele—poles
wait, where do we need
to be?

In water we go round
and we go round.

In all water
is all compounds
is this town, its hard quarry
its calcite weathers, redbrick and radial—

In our town, our river runs
it runs always
as if over stones.

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Copyright © 2013 Jane Lewty All rights reserved
from The Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission