the rain itches
its cold way
through
a stitch of cloud
in and out of silver
out of silver,
blue and gray
she steps streets,
supplanted
this moving day
of replacement
from here,
to there,
now here again
she steps streets,
everything upended
she swims a
blacktop
through a story:
the beginning
a brightness
the middle
a dirge
the end
a shaking
quiet
psalm of a
rainstorm
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