
Glide through red flowers.
Glide through red flowers.
What will hatch out of their warm heads?
Lace break up curves.
Thin light emerges from a darkroom.
Bring light to the hollow.
No rest for the wicked.
Standing tall with a mop and broom.
The second shots on its way.
All that’s left is pointing.
Her mouth is so far from her toes.