ghost

An owl carries a prairie dog to deluded flowers
that can’t name the colors they are made of,
carries over the wings of butterflies and herons
and blackbirds and pigeons hidden by infants
under the strollers with pleats and petals of dust.
The loafers of the valley liberate numbers
from the sequence, gaps from the void,
plants from the soil, reciting hymns to the Jolly Cronus.
The only kick scooter they had in town
has been sold for a song to a ghost.

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