but
in that cracked
way,
the opaque raisin teal-
not quartz through royal velvets,
on mannequin stands;
watercolour and
mud from the
mississippi
stained on mattresses
with cigarette
burns, but we
are not from this pasture
we
are livid
bourgeoisie
and proud- fealty to
novel
rains,
following columbus
heady space
expeditions
these chills
are yours,
i
fly
my half is
stagnant, still kept
delusions of
grandeur
you chased
i tangled
and jack and
jill
fell
down the hill
into morning
glory
