Sending Owls to Athens
Sarah Gridley

Redundancy redundancy.

Moon of my collarbone long ago broken.

Moon overlapping my look at the vascular. A dog-eared page says

Neptune green. A fourth type of song

is performed upon

a cricket’s invasion of territory. Broken in

the place of broken. Or nothing would argue my nervous system: grays

in the grays of nephogram, ash tree’s flourish

where the library steps.

Wind in the color—

there is no such thing. No color to color the color.