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Todd Pederson

In Flight

from a window you count birds or

try to like

japanese fabric

each wing see

through a blur a

signal a

gesture &

it’s simple enough to miss this

twisty depiction how

they all at once

disperse vanish into

these tall intervals into

time dividing

buildings moving through

the margins

into the unseen

spaces ghostwritten

profiles held aloft

momentary they dangle

in the middle

air contrails

imaginary patterns with no

perimeter without

 intent birds who

scatter the second everything takes

another turn at age

& purpose & as

these precursors all speed up still

they bank &

speak amid

this glassy

wilderness no don’t

take your eyes away another

morning now withdraws as you watch dawn

& larks

in flight resolve the ways everything darts

into the city makes

its quick


departure & you

before this window

ought to say something talk

call back

an echo

that undoes your lamé

of farewells

nothing important just


small bird or two


Todd Pederson is the poetry editor of Sleet Magazine.