The pace of the clear white sky
or the sunset a bloody tissue.
Dissipation will become synonymous
with a kind of hooked moonlight
or the avenue's gas lamps burnt anyway.
The trees will be legs
and the last breath of a brook.
It will not rain or snow will talc
the sills the fence posts.
The fabric of one will suspect another's
fabrication of essential detail.
It will be days after Halloween
tomorrow or the next day.
Where the phonograph inside
where the armchair's blank posture.
The warm window the warm curtain.
The warmth of there will be voices.
There will be the bleed of moments
then a separation even from the singular.
You will be cold again.
The reverse of coincidence
will be inertia unless a clash
of the rotate in symbols.
Anger will become interchangeable
with a dissolution of guilt or intent.
The tight the slack of a fist.