In the ripening dusk

the sky, impaled
by crisp, black
silhouettes, bleeds yellow and white,

and the rosebush bubbles over
with blooms like bright lights, too
awake to take

like cats into gutters, gutters cut
like the nape

of an envelope, its innards read
once, discarded,
and already, dark.

Brenna Courtney studies at the University of Virginia.

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