Light Objects By Jarad Bushnell

Light Objects

A switch of light that sits like its
Dimensions are times three;
A rod of bright that inch by inch
Rolls cross the table freely.

Recall my own belongings and
Remember not I own
A thing of any that looks like this:
A severed ray from morn.

Suspended effulgence; a flash
Frozen on a surface.
A gleam like glass, a fulgor cast,
A structure from formless.

A funny gift it is to give
A mortal without merit.
Or is it dross to Sol, and I
Its worth exaggerate?

But if he really thought it be
A scrap from sky to thrust
Then why does he demand it back
When day turns into dusk?

The truth is that he loves to make
The thing of which I note:
The beam that takes a solid shape
That I attempt to hold.

Jarad Bushnell is a data scientist who lives in Philadelphia with his wife and cat. When he’s not reading Dickinson, Poe, or Tennyson, he enjoys calisthenics, bird watching, and astronomy.

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