Lies adapt, but snow has only one way to be Unfallen.
The finch in the wood may sing nickels into farthings
but a hay penny hazards the affable lightning
of our entire departure. so alarming-
our fractions bother the scope
of our voluminous
collapse.
too swollen with gears to rob the peril
from a teardrop laughing to its death-
down an owls cheek…

Too in Love with Impossible
to Last.