I An orange overcast this evening splayed pink hues stripes and saccharine beads. The
twilight caricatures live golden years.
Restless becoming in the garden of her drunken sons their flowers soaked in brass, seams bursting in uncontrollable laughter we pause. To admire the briefness
of that era exploding its petals peppering spraying saliently we spill indoors churning across tabletops. My arms hang dead by my sides.
Her eyes gaping sway swiftly biting deeply the dottedfaces lurch. Streets fall unconditional amidst tears we comb lips sharply distinctly
her stubborn *** stumbling handles loosening she holds my hand my arms hang dead we pause.
II Children babble sunlight across lawns; I hear sirens traffic icecream nips our tongues twinge on windless pipes gust our hair flying smiling at laughter from the playground behind us.
Placid smiles stain enamoured halls; for glimpses we mumble necks crooked sheets flap draped over bars her eyes waver glisten shiver. A warm breeze dries my hair.
III Wallowing I oscillate utmost trep- -idation entangling grappling but hushed beneath foliage eyes downturned soil clings when her
fingers impress deeper through to where rivers end. Glowing dawn I turn further lighter almost her hair caught
between the floors; gently feverish we see turgid lines the tinniest cracks we pray on tranquil mornings.
Window panes blemished it was spring only darker from deafened rivers throbbing; under lucid eyes I fold and heralds blare. We consume the silence sounding from still lakes.