today:

today,

the sun set over the encampment

consistent with the universal theory of colour

filled to the brim with complements,

we stood together by the water tower,

like two troops in a garrison

and watched as the evening chipped away at the afternoon

piece by piece,

so precise

so deliberate —

it eventually

became an obsidian blade

sharp enough to cut out the twilight like a cancer

it almost made me believe again

in happy endings

but this is not the first summer of settlement

with its cautious conviction of an eventual prosperity

no,

today,

the colony is no longer new

the territory is now chartered

the wilderness, tamed

the virgin soil, pregnant

with lawns and fingers

all manicured

no,

today,

the wind,

oh, the wind

it roars through like Hammurabi

you can tell me all you know about the laws that govern

the ways in which high pressure systems course through our weathervanes

and I will tell you

what I saw

today:

an agent of god,

the official executioner

has no interest in restorative justice

or other such contemporary approaches to policing

no, this kind of sentence is an absolute

worse, a gift of nature

like spring blossom

like lavender

like honey bees, like stingers

like root rot

today:

today,

the wind will blow away the stratospheric visions that cloud our judgement

tomorrow, the sky will be clear and providence only just a word

any last silver lining will varnish

and the final heat of summer

that radiates off the brick façade

like a saucepan after supper is served

will dissipate

blessed may be the meek

but they will not survive the earth they inherit

not today

today:

today is a preposition with no object

a temporal and spatial clause

that makes no sense, and will only ever feel complete

if you can read it fully

out of context