balanced on a web of skulls
the soft wind reverberating
between our stools on sticks of brass,
the turning eyes that watch
a congealed flame,
our messages are played
on the dim vibrating void
prolapsed between light's echoes
crescents darting in and out
from tear struck sight
the outstretched arms of silver
from a stark black pond
pooling bloodlike in an airport runway
and the letters of a hot tub's tiled walls
body of music floating on racks
and waves of reel-bound steam
earth's wide planks of bone soil
tide of multiplying wakes
where her mouth takes in the drowned
and symbols are the spirit's tools
snake's vision is hers to use
and the apple tree's trunk of wombs.
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