Monday, July 4, 2022

Martha Ronk



Night: a photograph by Robert Adams

Ordinary bits of light on neighborhood leaves, trees passed by,
spattered not-very-white on a random number of them,
the canopy of leaves wide enough to hold multiple bits of light
and what I can’t help is how pulled I am into the lights as if my eyes
could focus on multiple places at once which I know they can’t
and yet my body, flattened and splayed, spreads itself over the leaves
and the branch never lowers or moves, simply stays as it is
as I am pulled from each limb and finger, head and elbow onto the tree
as if I could just lie there elongating out to the extreme endpoints
not in my neighborhood but in his Longmont neighborhood in 1976
when at that time I was nowhere near and yet the collection
online allows me to move entirely into a night and lights
scattered I suppose from an ordinary street lamp on the sidewalk
and the tree branches and it must be summer given so many leaves.


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