by Will Cordeiro

A copper glint,
corroding. Sky
honeying itself
at dusk.

cast, alluvial—
a hypnotism of
every solid thing.

A final signature
of luster imprints
dark rivers with a
door. I look away.

Then gaze unsure,
past a translucent
outline, the arête’s
burn scar on lava

rock. A snowpack
fracturing. Below:
the ragged season
harvests its decay.

The radio towers
silhouette on top
of Elden. Prickly
pears hug cliffside,

juniper fits the gap.
Cloudbanks ravel
past namelessness
& drift. Go drink

the twilight until it
all runs out. Dip in
its formless matter.
My eyes can touch

each thorn,
each sprig-tip rising
from the ash. All are
born & scatter light.

All are skittery with
figuring themselves
before they’re taken
offward, over.

Will Cordeiro has work published in AGNI, Bennington Review, Copper Nickel, The Threepenny Review, THRUSH, and elsewhere. Will won the 2019 Able Muse Book Award for Trap Street. Will is also coauthor of Experimental Writing: A Writer’s Guide and Anthology, forthcoming from Bloomsbury. Will coedits Eggtooth Editions and teaches in the Honors College at Northern Arizona University.