by Lissa Miller

wherever i am the stars are
and the stars dissolve, resistant
perfume of a dizzy mood, shadows
can’t keep still beneath the trees
nobody misses the past, its dark and
darker green, its flocks of crows
by a dry riverbed, the crows settle
the crows leave trinkets in the leaves, the weight
of citrus comes and goes, the river fills with light
the trees are trimmed to round
and stars are blossom shaped,
sometimes the oranges hang so low, i know
no other sun would drop like that, no sun would bother
to varnish the oranges