within
earshot off
a fall, a puddling
of common blue-
bottle butter-
flies slap and dagger
round a sun whet
rouse, when one wrings
and throttles desperation
itself chased by it-
self-strung, ground-swept, spring
sprung latch, fitfully en-
jambed, only to land a-
lone,
in a dash of its own -
blink of a mind span
← →
