On the eaves it says
Fish caught daily
In waves of rope
There is a yoke
Sunburned in your shoulders and your back
Where through the ache bright day
You bore wings
I imagine the mottled taste
Of vanilla and salt strawberry
Light globes swim
Big eyed and with that
Lost but stalwart resignation
Of deep creatures unwillingly brought
To gasp the evening-coloured air
The door is screened
By the flat Neapolitan droop
Of tentacles, slap an insult
Above the threatening continental shelf, a monstrous
Toroid eye, eats insects in the hard
Whip-crack, a singe
Of rising oil and burning wings
Datura noxious in the chitter ricochet
From the loom and pedestal
Of a turning fan
The caged steel weight
Makes me think
Of Icarus falling
In burning oscillation
Just that one decisive moment
Our grievance at the sinking sun
At the fish-eyed mirror
Of our recalcitrant misdemeanours
While you melt
In eternal denial
On repeat
Sold the dresser where
You daubed my face
For nights out, glittering
Too pretty, you said
Lashes like a girl
The bird’s eye maple
Lifting, on one edge
As if some creature
Of dune and heartwood
Half-slumbered still within
You eat with your elbows
I replied, the way a gull
Fossicks in the dirt
Ignoring gold and sea glass
For lesser morsels
The mirror with
The spreading stain
Of decaying silver
A blemish tiding from the edge
As if the dawn sea froze
Where you jammed
The stems of stolen roses
The wings reflecting three times
Caught the train
In the watchful desert evening
Ninety three dollars for my name
Leaving you behind
In a suddenly, echoing empty room
For a discontented world
The dresser on the rails
Following behind
