Croatian Pull

Now the clock chimes Croatian

Aversion nodded landscape. 
Tragically, “It is our
Summer under clothed umbrella”
She sighs:

Children scream like horoscopes,
Sudden into our ears; they have all found new Dead Sea scrolls.

Neck pulls from side to side

I am wading, 

Sparkling miracles
Fossilized, a temple pulsed
But filled from elsewhere
A name far fitting; Plucked from me as I
Reject melting seasons of notes and book
And O how Muslims are frozen in our trees
Deliciously
And where am I to hide 
When all climbs culpable? When I cannot let go.

“Our winter will wait”, she replies
Warm blanketed over boot
Every day a bird nestled, A whistle bowed
Vivaldi snapped in murmuring ogres.

I count in fewer pages
Again and again, knowing I have lost and 
Gathering close to everything.
I have cast a lasting fleur-de-lis, 
Wheeled from mastic bound death.

It is this heaven our name repeats
A raven,
A door for all that flows, burrowing westbound;
Miles from summer
Hovering in Croatia.