The eye as a gate to sublimity,
rain begets rain as the subject—
it has since become funny
to apologize for anything at all.

Who are you? Who are you?
Begging for walk into emblem,
gnashing teeth, leaves fading into green
only to become compostable again, eventually.

Little rose-colored pennants of the season;
futurity presents itself wide-eyed & honest,
peppered by clouds gestating silver thread.

I can still hear the hum of the engines;
the Swarovski dance of affirmation;
time interrupted by time.

The orbit will complete its spin-cycle,
only to return unchanged,
but somehow new—
Not even we know how far we’d go.

There is something so clever about dusk,
subtracting light from light—
flame upon flame upon flame.

Julianna Buckmiller is a writer based in Seattle. Her chapbook Novelty was published in 2015 by Alice Blue Books. Julianna has a MSW degree from the University of California and a BA degree from the University of Washington. She lives in a tiny apartment with her husband, their books, and their animals.

Photograph by Conrad Ziebland.