Onement VI by Barnett Newman

The shadows move in their pre-dawn mirage.
Birdsong haunts the lukewarm streetlight like a black comedy.
This hoop is a belligerent tattoo.

My hands fan the oil spill.
Pouring from the mouthpiece in my neck.
A train’s whistle.

My effigy mollifies.
Its blue shimmer dyes the grass.
The cat’s paw; a commemorative stamp.

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