the tree line is
an old eyebrow
behind a faceless snow.
a truck swerves to miss
someone fallen,
shovel flung in the air.
the flakes try to get in,
but, like smart insects,
tap the skin and fall away
to where
they’re wanted:
a gust going to the next county, to
the bare arms of a begging tree.
all the dying
is already done.
this appears to be overkill.
this is the spider sucking into bloodlessness.
this is the kaleidoscope
i trudge in
hopefully,
to find the warmest night.
Livio Farallo is cofounder/co-editor of Slipstream. His work has appeared in The Cardiff Review, The Cordite Review, Triggerfish, Ranger, Misfit, North Dakota Quarterly, and elsewhere.
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