Shadow in the sun's
red lengthening still, what

grey ink his hand
can throw, she'd given

him a noisemaker unrolls
like a sour tongue

in the sun's red,
lengthening still the grey

ink of his blurry
hand, the sour note

of the unrolled tongue
long as his breath

can hold it, she'd
given him shadow, long

as his breath can
throw the blurry note.