“a clockwork orangerie”

gears click&nbsp;&nbsp;
in humid glass&nbsp;&nbsp;

copper vines coil&nbsp;&nbsp;
around brass struts&nbsp;&nbsp;

oranges glint&nbsp;&nbsp;
like captive suns&nbsp;&nbsp;
hinged to silver branches&nbsp;&nbsp;

steam drifts—&nbsp;&nbsp;
a hiss-purr among pistons&nbsp;&nbsp;
petals unfurl&nbsp;&nbsp;
to the pulse of time&nbsp;&nbsp;

shadowed aisles&nbsp;&nbsp;
radial rods pumping&nbsp;&nbsp;
light into crystalline blooms&nbsp;&nbsp;

one dimpled fruit&nbsp;&nbsp;
slips free&nbsp;&nbsp;
into a glass basin&nbsp;&nbsp;
and rings&nbsp;&nbsp;
into silence.






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