unclasp

the rain turns buildings into long pale ghosts
with blocky faces

and clocks grow heavy,
even the lemon trees do not unclasp their fruit

every cloud has to be cut free
from stony carvings of sky

and they fall to the grass and smother it in a dew
that cannot be tasted –

and I know if I stand at the window
and watch too long I will never be warm again

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