lie still,
and stiller still or
should you be seen by afternoons
left behind in rain-struck places,
and the tell-tale faces
of burnt coffee spoons:

whispering of an encounter
“was it a field?before four o'clock.
was?”
it was an old shack with a sea view,
above claws and sideways walks along
pearl beaches lined with seafoam.

though,
again you've made your case.
wide awake: 
      awake and praising Winter-
      skewed (grimaces
      wrapped in smiles,
      tounges tracing circles;
      biting lower lips)upon all
      the living

and the dead paint
      with mandrakes,
      and paralysis, 

and this colorless past is 
      the sound of echoed years 
      the sound of
      waste.