Not to want
or to have more
but be simply floating
love of coals and soft flames
encamped toward abysses
with the shine of battered velvet
coming out of a rock broken
grass quilt
and a peppered ooze
sweet copper hindquarters parked
on a ramp of sand
suited to the cliff's caught rags

at what hour
through what hotly vacant
watching curve
should I drink the sugar
of your eternal move