We slide down the shine

of a glass dome,

fondling each other's

serpentine necklaces,

watching hell's maps made flesh

take a labyrinthine gulp.

Lights gel bedded

in fractured roads, torn islands

spilling crumbled minerals

and the play of ancient roots

all frazzled abandon sewn through

with a lurking permanence,

forms hung like clothes

on strangely insistent hangers,

wigged spirits

half gone and arrived in song.