the leaf blinks twice
Blackberry canes cross the diagonal like handwriting. Between two scratches, a pressed leaf slips out of alignment and pretends to be a tiny boo.
a small haunted slide warming under a projector bulb; burgundy ink slips, returns, remembers.
The moths arrive as soft punctuation. Their wings stutter across aged bone linework, each shadow briefly brighter than the room that made it.
Blackberry canes cross the diagonal like handwriting. Between two scratches, a pressed leaf slips out of alignment and pretends to be a tiny boo.
The picture steadies into faded cream. A firefly route remains: label, flare, title, mark. The field recording never explains itself, but it leaves a warm oval in the dark.