The blue officer corps wearing military caps of cloud stands in line.
From a bottomless pit they lop off the neck of night.
Sky and trees layer atop one another and seem to be fighting.
The antenna traverses above, running.
Are the flower petals floating in space?
At noon, two suns run up the arena.
The rusty red emotions of summer will soon sever our love.
Copyright © 2015 Chika Sagawa
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.