Each shaft of rock is a needle in the arm
Of a Chinese doll, and it’s begging
For a little bullion to ward off
The incredible saga of the crow and shadow
That duel despairingly –
Soft kicks like folds of snow
Tossed against a mannequin’s navel,
A little smart punch
Like a sudden memory of a childhood
Toy, it’s starting to sprinkle
Gray water like the water shimmered
On new cement in a cemetery walkway.
It would be impossible to rise from the earth
With such a lid in place,
And the cliffs go on breathlessly.
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