Two persons on a porch
a limp fan whistles on high  

The woman paints a field of purple asters
a body gone soft beneath a tree of golden lamps  

The man stares at a book, blind
to the black wave pulling her under  

the old damage, poison
dripping from a broken seal  

She places water, a shiny ribbon
Cows moo across river    

She feathers in a dark scarf plummeting through blue
The low pitch of a crow pollutes the quiet  

A red gate, a lime bush, a sign
that pledges night and stars ahead                      

~ Found poem composed/modified from words in Brigit Pegeen Kelly’s poem, “The Witness”