The Fantastic Toes

 

STRANGE LOOPS

 (words by Tony Rasmussen)

Though we conspire to deceive

our only desire is to feed.

 

Bearing the weight when it’s easy, setting it down when it’s hard,

picking the seeds from broken glass, mirror reveals who we are:

the grey-vest crow, the shadow that binds the dawn.

 

Carousel sleeps in the weeds

with matchsticks and coins stuck to the seats.

 

Pier creaks, a wooden cathedral, brine-kissed calliope crown,

saltwater taffy and spent cigars, burnt ozone tracks of the crowd,

the grey-vest crow, the shadow that binds the dawn.

 

Build a home between pilings,

safe and warm.

 

I’ll be there with the rosy-fingered dawn to see you off,

with black beak and obsidian eye to pluck the stars on high.

 

Strange loops conjoin in this dream,

and gently return to the sea.