it's time for today's
group of three
the refraction of
a naked arm opening
a blind appearing at
a window;
where she walks on the crescent, a
jetty made of square-cut stones,
cages of shattered bedrock
dying of acute dismay—
note the flaws driving this motif, the bright
trumpet-call that ushers in the entre'act:
nomenclature, one never sees it coming
till it's too late