a man softly wrested

midnight is exhausted and dusty
an uninvited guest . guess

germing along an expanse of colour
as our own slick yarns hangover us

a poise . sundered of the sweet smell
severed from any "moving" finger

it passed her by and once past her
copes . left . stained by the rest

will tire of the wander . the swamp
they . or we . make of the sky