Stagger up and split the dice in two

Roll to you with eyes cast left away

Gardens kept under ceilings of blasted glass

The small of your back reels to Botecceli- fully clothed

//

Oysters and hives and sweat

Signatures too, held up in the pen you’re surprised I keep

Hear me now in haze

That I will not

That I cannot

That this, too, will come to nothing else

////

The leaves begin to brown

And the wood hollows

Your basement empties

As you drift

Closer by the day.