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Connor Jordan
 BENEATH ASH LEAVES
 
 The wall. Sandstone. Ivy. Patterned bark meandering.
 Sun beyond. Shining through ash leaves.
 
 This is a small graveyard called Killysuggan. No one
 comes. But the light comes.  Ash leaves held to the sky.
 
 Wind across ash leaves is conversation starlings
 understand. And the dead perhaps. Hugged to the dark earth.
 
 I see the cliffs of the sky through a narrow gap
 between ash boughs. Sluiced open by the wind branches
 and leaves can yield sun enough to blind me.
 
 Shadows in the walled corner under elderberry.
 Stirring in fuschia. Lurking behind honeysuckle. The dark
 crescent of a swift's body spirals beyond the branches.
 
 Boughs break the light. Leaves cup and tremble with it.
 The shady corner is tense against it. Shadows inhale.
 
 Beyond Killysuggan the sky stoops to leave her golden
 staff low on pediments of cloud. The gate scrapes
 shut. The latch falls into its rusted groove.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
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