1

It ranges regular, splintered and snapped out of hell,
like an houru2019s ease glancing explosions away gently
– expectant it picks up a tone of bone, attached pocket of beat,
as a door of guilt leading to a red seat in peace,
its boundary a journey of themes for tired feet.

2

In hand it finds immeasurable the body, an aura of fences,
better premise of breaks that are sealed as holes u2013
and another corner of death worn as the sorrowed light
in a broken street, its fading coals unmerciful,
their teeth grinding as eternity into souls.

3

Its council is a cant of naked resistance shamed,
like a key turned, and the lock skinned.
Repentance is the footprint in the water, a gift u2013
it waits as sleep and sin like the holding of a tray
that is the tying of bubbles to a wind.

4

Cold in the morning, planned horror as a shape,
bunched straps of will as the public belt u2013
sensitive it cradles the unraveled rite like a youth
that has knelt as a link for regret that is aging,
its reaction slack and slung like a feeling unfelt.