At Sunrise

by Glenn Marchand

Eyes sealing punctures. By rendering concern.
Seeing into the majesty of weaknesses.
It was God’s hand, an angel’s music, wolverines
playing symphony.
It went so well at one second.
Lights made of fluorescence; doing due diligence.
Just needed to sew truth: brown in pride, northern in
thought, watchful, living understanding, it becomes
an ideal.
By a given memory, to have uncovered science,
everything went wrong
those at interior miles, the high jump, so Olympian.
To depend on honesty; to lean on measures—of
mind, clarity, hill,
and mountain.
It was delusion, Soul, like living it, Soul, Love
churning intestines.
Just needed to believe—as deep inside—much more
equipped at existence; the ape of shadows
a face made specialized,
building bridges, cleaning skies, dusting rivers.
Made like a thief; so many leaves; birds nesting in trees.