P—W  V° 01:06

In This Day There Is a Day
(Late Afternoon)

by Alina Gregorian

Tell me about the pictures that move on the wall
when you look at the sun. How the heat that
spreads like oranges feels like sand. Like the
bluish-grey when you close your eyes and hear the
fuzz of the radio. And there is no radio, only a
broken solar system. There are so many numbers
in this poem. And so much laughter.

2021 © A.Gregorian