The wetstone gleams
in an eyelid,
the lights of town submerge
to bulge and foil
in the loins of the body,
the sidewalk falls apart
from the cut cranium,
the ground lisps.

A fist covered in damp oats
and blue molasses,
beaming the glass dial
to lunar maximum,
faucets on amplified grey
tall panties against
the pull of the earth
and the men gacking.