One more scraped out room

slabs of effort in transport

glossy wings around the glossy heart

mechanically breaking webs

from floorboards and flexed

windows flying.

I'm on the crest

of all my ex girlfriends

moved through stone

from all the pillows shared

and the high shelves groaning

one diamond horizon waits.

Through the tar pools

and sticky lit rooms

where we danced

carrying a rope of wires

amplified between our hands

I leave the springboard panorama

steam pierced and tingling.