June 2 (Sonnet)

Do bears imagine in fruit red, olive, and orange?
When they crack the surface of shallow water,
Stir the blue and white secrets of the dawn sky
Into scatter mirrors, venus like a fired seed crashing
Aquarius into blue-hot cinders, mountains blending
With minutes-old light, where the memory of two
Faces glanced the day behind, saw themselves sad
And the shadow of their lover, then sky, sand sprinkle,
Do they swing their noses downstream or into the air,
Feel the weights that once supported libraries,
Governments, the cool porches of homes where wine
Stains the white floor and red prints diminish with the moon.
Every grain at the river bottom is an olive or an orange.
We might touch eyeball to water, watch for sprouts.

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