of surf, rising, pattering against beams of steel
the sky with treble interjections; convulsive gyrations
rage, lightnings on waves, cold and bare, gather
under a spring moon.
to tell her between the stretches of electricity that
tulips bleed with poignant scent, filling the air with
the thought of it a simple thing, the solid paces of
God’s own calmness.
of witness would she be? The rain whispers, intimidates
to lie down with the dead, disappearing into vapors,
and sealing down edges of brick and mortar, desperately
to become eroded.
spreads her arms apart, his heroic figure of comfortable
catches her breath between the metaphors of sunlight,
swirling wants against frozen lips; she knows. Loneliness
her soul as she looks down suffering vertigo.