I'm sunk within a blank;
you're tanking,
temperamental, though
everything peeled reveals
a tottering joy. Dollop
of no more, upping
the anterior: we're off
to the theoretical zoo.
Ever have I loved
our alibi—miscreants
hear it and swoon. The pen
tip hides in a lucite night
as its pigment skitters
and smothers the day.
