cold hands
and a thought
turning back
over my shoulder
one of those
questions ever
asked and handled
like assemblies
on the line
examined from
a few angles
and put down.
The tall grass
great sheaths of it
balanced by bulls
the boiling rooms
and crates of pounds
of obscure origins
scattered at my feet
small betrayals
like magnifying glasses.
scattered at my feet
small betrayals
like magnifying glasses.
