Brian Lucas


The Fitness of Gold


Starting here with admissions each the furthest from gold never having the character of

--these were circles and squares, tremors due to eclipse--

Unwritten in back pages and none the wiser we stole her robe            We insisted on
            theater            We stole her ways and fed on them

The fineness of gold was no match for this it repented as did the sky the sea we waited
            until tomorrow shunning all expression

And there, no gold only debris only time for escape from a character since
            she took the part too seriously

An actor that could fly empty in space discharging through a little window a slip of gust
            the void caught on her hem

The furthest from gold one could get             the isolated spectrums festooned with her
            slip the color whose agency was gold