Ann Dunn


all the color comes after sunset like my daughter’s
face while she died the car wrapped the elm she met the
rear-view mirror turned stone and swelled to twice her
size as if horizon’s atmosphere thickened to prism her
I remember her spectacular labor strata burn feverish
transition spark before the crown like involuntary
smiles dawns and dusks combust beyond the mind I knew
if I watched it would make me blind she pulled her ocean
twin to greet her rim to rim they dented the dash with
sudden weight a momentary way ignited between us then
punctured dreams emptied on the sea I remember her
childhood game rock covers light covers liquid covers
rock involuntary grief refracted her wreck made it
brilliant familiar eyes turned unfamiliar this evening
water and color run all over the earth and fill the holes
water is more thorough it leaves no shadows I remember
her future