Castle attends

the coronation

of the trees.

The trees bend

their green

flames toward

the river. Castle

would like to tell

someone that

the world is so

good at drawing

circles, but no

one's around,

just the sound

of a d.j. setting

up downstairs.

Castle sees a lick

of orange against

a sailboat on

the dull metal

river, thinks life-

preserver. No

mention of

the coronation

in the papers,

just holiday

news, no need

to feed the meter.

Castle imagines

cars floating by

more quietly,

perhaps in

deference to

the day? Castle

thinks, Every

flaw in every

system is our

own, but there's

no one near

to tell, the

macaron tower

has just been

delivered. Out

the window,

filaments of rain

tap the leaves

like swords.