The Meadow 59 Exodus Skyler Osborne Familiar bodies at midnight. An arrangement of debris after the hurricane, my loud car. Polaris, crushed pills. No word, no telephone. Gossamer hues from the lair of the moon like a bald boy deluded in a pool. I gathered everything to leave in late summer, its lunatic arms. Alligator blood billowed like a shirt at the bottom of the dam. Bats sliced mosquitoes off the water. My sister growing like a mother. A moth glazing the back deck. Black coffee, white pine, last light,
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy ODQ3NA==