On another cold New England morning,
we sit at the breakfast table, silent.
Outside the kitchen window,
naked trees gather snow
on their black wetted limbs.
They look like photograph negatives
edges raised and sharpened.

A world in reverse.

I am suspect to that world.
To explain, she smiles with clarity,
an ink blot formed
in the dye of God.

~ Jason Sanford Brown
[from Twilight Ending; A Literary Journal Vol.3 No.3, Sep 97]

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