pavement in progress

fall fiestas
dressing a feverhead
dried dying, incomparable
making a tiny concrete wish
littered in glorious debris
to believe in you who
today shaded by moonlight
guarded by mist
will see an ill omen
on a dying bejwelled crow
stunning in clarity
mocking on a february
near midnight twenty eight
twenty twenty
and choose
to ignore it, reach for
a promise, a deadly fear
and voilà,
a bridge shall appear