They cruised along through waves of sunlight, like tubby longboats with many paddling feet. Twelve vermilion suns peeked from their black jointed decks. We walked “as the crow flies.” We shadowed them like trees. Our breathing drifted like high, thin cirrus above them. Later we saw dead ones flipped on their backs— Every day, says Milarepa, we wake into our new life.
Susan Kelly-DeWitt | Coffee, Rain Contents | Mudlark No. 46 (2012)