A watermark is mystery.
Someone is watching from a skyline –
at eye level, conscious
<span class=“indent-tab-three”">movement
is vapor
& silk or fish-
net stockings,
a science of

one man’s foreclosure
you
were falling from
sheets of fixation with umbrage light
as skeins of flowers
you name bridges as truples & couples as you
sound your syllables outside of a cave
where we live your better evenings

atonement is one word
that cannot be translated into another voluble
still frame, dear lover.

You’ll keep a lamp lit for a decade.