Andrew Sargus Klein
SELF PORTRAIT AS THE MOON, THE HEADLIGHT’S DREAM
Stillness is a mirage on the human scale. Time is violence, the face of the world relearning itself.
On the side of a highway a car sits forgotten and dark. Colonies of fireflies repopulate its empty headlight, waiting for high summer and its blink of midnight that will find the forgotten car with the slow-glowing eye, pulling it from the shoulder up along a certain slant of moonlight into the night, where the headlight can be her own myth, the unblinking ghost along the spine of the sky.
as the treeline, the respiring threshold
the same air
as the sky, the release
as myself, the landscape’s walking heart
the sediment that bleeds
as the river, the conviction
am I finest
as the valley, the open grave
you fall into me
gathering the voice that breaks
as the watershed, the afterthought