All this bad falling light is a trope for what, staying put? Getting the dead out of the dust. Stagnant pools of offal, alright. Isn’t that what we’ve come to close our eyes around? The bridge is a means for crossing. Then why are you stopping, little sentry? The blogs nightgown visitant claims. They dropped children down sewer holes in the street as the bombs lit off. What else, rain? Yes, rain. What else, more rain? Yes & more.

stationary legion
with capsules hiding
in the shoreline trench

each of the staples
pulled from the din
by the remover of staples

to each saint his own
rabbit shade
acolyte & contract

We swam up under the tipped-over boat for a pocket
of air to find one another.