Thereís a shudder in the patches of sunlight burning into the floor.  She catches it out of the corner of her eye.  The on-coming of doom, the sun about to flick out, the quiver proceeding the shatter of a bulb filament.  The shudder comes again, perhaps from inside her.  A human issue.  But no, itís a knot of starlings cutting out the sky repeatedly with their wings.

 

may 2003

s.spachman