like a gunman i open every door
searching through fallen bands of moon light
every coruscated surface the color of gunmetal
i have been sitting here at this little table
below your windows pointing to the sky
for so long i cannot remember what to do
if it has feathers do i take aim
i run away & assassinate
lungs ripple or billow it's a fault
this house has so many rooms look
there is an ocean shore it laps
the sap of a tongue over the written-on envelope
the needley pines grown in the blue shadow
on a bluer wall if the garden would not plus
