Black night's wages
of the silver lake
curb's licking grain,
spilling aluminum cans
into the covenant,
rinds coughed
over the undulating boards,

a boat with many shelves
feeding the deep rock,
thick jelly shielding
encapsulated lights,
the cracked shell mending
a fertile hinge,
shovel's turn of a raw murmur

tongues of wet clay
waking the immovable
trope of bones
for the fish in the eye hook's bramble.