It was so much like someone had tossed off a blanket,
the green & blue & inbetween wove all rumpled on the floor/scene here in Atlanta,
It was tossed off like he/she had grown too too cozy,
tossed off like the covered desired for some light-touching air’s fingers,
tossed off & on to the floor/ scene here in Atlanta
& as if we could see the Mercury god/king/planet posing on his golden throne
& when summoned he, Mercury god/king/planet, he will arise
& when his ladder,
& when his clear glass tube
& when his mother’s bony hip are all aligned,
he’ll reach for the middle sphere/ ceiling,
& but until called
& but until nearly smothered
he sits among the blue & green & red & white
woven in the raggedy edges of the inbetween,
& when, reflected, from above
he sees the echoes of ridges & the echoes of hills,
& the shadows of oceans & trees all eclipsed/protected/covered,
he sees the elements rattle in their cages
aiming to mimic his own muffled posture.