that sweats, that has a jagged shadow
pools of circuitry sing back
from a tubular void
that holds its solace in a shark's tooth
and a painted cave
glistening through distance
inked by a laser gone
through many tidal rifts
and lowering a saxophone
one riff that continues to blow itself
at the bottom of a sinuous well
in the temper of evaporated blood
with the bones that call nobody
and the silence that is not a curse
dashed against the breathing whale
that glides across steel grains
dashed against her sweet sides
like a mute mite
like an eel in a puddle in a graveyard
curling and eating space
beneath reflected stars.
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