Beneath the trees and separated
clouds, bitter apples and dust
painted glass, watching the stones
pick up light, and the long
docks drown.

A chain of beds crying epiphany
alarms puckered in the sweating
heat, blood dancing that had
its holiday, and the last
pronged fences down.

Shop window's awning
that protects a shelter
of labels, the fur drenched
of a spirited quantity,
the cone blocked net and hoop
a quiet shadow.