Unknown to closure the rabid alley
run through. Night & plum in plot.
A lengthened tremble over wine,
a pale percent of past to meet you
weak in tides trickling out. Damp
enough to drop your hand I fear
the sparse fields too soon for winter
& browning singular within you.
Perpetual middle. Makeshift house
swaying from roof in recluse. The cremated
sea bends with box & branch, finds its way
to drain. Most heads held high despite.
Enough liminal love wound through
cardboard faces reaches song.
Young & crammed lie the dying in bed.
From the moon I can bear to hear
each way you turn away in wooden chair
a watery escape to me you pulse, you platitude.