History flows wide of the mark
it's days since I've conspired
for a quick resolution of the mime.
Calcifying smiles, features employed
in the passing of dusky pipes
which resonate the consort
as my spiral of early bones
knit their question, hallowing
an easy sextile of contented
harmony, unshepherded in skin
(the swells and contours intimate
as dark sides, split across this lake).
There's always an invitation,
hovering like harmony,
shuffled and aligned as charity
should you play that song, you'll
call the constellations to alight
cellars yielding drinkables
thinking that you'll percolate
a freezedried heart, in solemn birthday cake.