water on stones
words: nadA | photo: lynn spinnato
gold coins
nubbed from the wearing of street and dust
stubbed toes pick their way across the cracks
broken glass
wet paper
gum and stink river of last night in the gutter
they step forward
until finally
ten little extensions
antennae, sponges
find cool open hearted faces
in the unrelenting throngs of carnival music
the toes float into the sphere of the song
forgetting a moment stopped
a day broken
and then, spontaneously
the sky opens