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   f r a g m e n t (3)

--- L E O N A R D   G O N T A R E K

a mystery about it plate of red ants we are served at dusk rustle flame over paper what is hidden behind what

we are being told over and over have been for a long time sun rolls

down mountain and sets yes the eyes are ash the ears violets rain scented along path

on way out of more beautiful this time of day snow melting concealing green gray sea thrumming in limbs small tracks moon becoming undone a sign

sitting down to plate at dusk of red ants

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