shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Grace Marie Grafton

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Absence as it nears also offers astonishment

Dan Beachy-Quick

Elaborate meanings fall short. No matter how you scan,
you fail to find the way your thoughts once brocaded
the least presence – whush of wind, single note of
a plain wren. No, now – where there was the sunny
rush of syllables – is only cloudless air. You sit
on the fallen tree trunk to mine your memories.
Instead comes a flash of unmitigated silver.
It could be some malfunction of your eyes, or
it could be the image of potential. Stay where
you are. Let the silver be whatever it might.
Let it remain flavorless, scent-free, touch-
averse. Don't grab, don't imagine, don't
run your fingers through its immateriality.
Do not take it in your arms.