not that ballistic yellow the cream one with slight reverence left pale then let go (she spoke in normal tone: "I feel diminished")
as only sequences of
events can change the page
from its original white
notes soften paper
as gloves one wants to replay
morning then afternoon
turn sparse
("tea, then?")
and begin to
seem a different way
some gathered moments
made into obedience
to clockwork named a day
sheila e. murphy
