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FROM the RED BRANCH JOURNAL NUMBER THREE
An excerpt from
JAKE ADAM YORK
When the starlight’s lint descends
the ground is fluttering.
Slowly it peels away
in innumerable blades,
each one a map of night
seen through water or leaves,
leaving a bolt,
hard and white as bone,
as if some bird had fallen
where those wings could feather it in quiet,
and around it, the shadow a body leaves,
the wake through which it falls.
now the light is fine as dust.
The ground is cold,
smooth as ash.
Somewhere there is a name for this.
Someone could write it down.
ROBERT DARCH, FROM "SUNDAY," 2012
"But then that wasn’t what the woman was asking, not what she meant. She wasn’t doubting his capacity or calling his bluff. She was just looking for someone who’d committed her particular sin, someone else who’d failed the test. Who’d looked at loss, but seen herself."
Kate Kremer, from "Evening Calling"
ROBERT DARCH, FROM "30 DAYS," 2012
the RED BRANCH JOURNAL © 2013