berlin lit

Shira Dentz

 

Late Air 

 

A dark crystal dives like a bird, 

trees wagging leaves like sleeves. 

Ranking puzzle pieces in the middle rainbow,

oscillating dice cast interpretations.

The world is setting close and narrow

without enough quiet, as in private.

Summer moons fly with the bait, 

rootless as money, oh I mean honey,

in hives.