rupture tongues marking skylines sound shivers rumbling
masticated by moments of force crumple zones packing one into another
see inextricable babushka corrugated on lines long etched in engineering notebooks
collapse, creak, cornered
On another note there is distance and though heavy heads hang there rests both
above and below a viscous air abundant with buoyancy and bowing brings bower up
but still, what is a pain in the throat or an empty hand or an idle day spent walking
when in another colder country skies open only to sputter snow; leaving clouds conspire
with cancer
Stage I:
enclosed hard knotted in subtly damaged folds fermenting the flesh
Node:
in fistules reaching poison, fever flecked blood and bone brackwater
backed and too taste in mouth
Stage 3, 4:
If staged, exit left, no curtain fall and an audience sits until tired, disaffected
or empty themselves they walk, leaving one who may have fallen asleep
waking hours later to a lonely theater a spotlight shining on unattended
Finding door locked and alarmed is it guilt or wonder that prompts him
not to call but rather sit, still and staring in his lonely seat until morning
crawls from its heavy waters
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