mississippi ave octet

bicycle wheel with derailer lashed to a
fence; above, mare’s tails east, mackerel sky west—

I’ve been here before: the japanese maple’s
fragile hands, a lace-knit sweater worn baggy—

blank reverse face of street signs against the sky:
an empty paper cup on a bus stop bench—

bare hawthorn propped up by a crooked steel post;
late sun’s long fingers nearly long as yours


Jack Hayes
© 2016