Chris Dombrowski

Fragments with Dusk in Them

We were taught to count kestrels on wires
like coins in our pockets. Whole years
we recalled by color: that torch-year,
tanager, fox, sandstone, sage. Droughts
revealed the river’s former ways, oars wedged
between boulders, a derailed boxcar,
conductor’s leather cap. A recluse fell in love
with certain shadows spilled across
her cellar floor, and among the east’s first stars
were the occasional words jeweling-up at dusk
with junkyards, chrome hubcaps—as mirrors
struck small skies across our bodies.


Chris Dombrowski
Fragments with Dusk in Them originally appeared in Salt Hill (#16, Summer 2004).