Rim of a Wheel

lungs are as ripples as pools are for rocks
quietly perched on a wire,
and the stones are as water as the air is of light

sways of a knife that hunt for the dead
circles a road-kill in a tire,
lungs are as ripples as pools are for rocks

the dark-zero-of-feathers peck
worldly-squirrel-eyed it pries
the stones are as water as the air is of light

picking it prunes pokes it turns
time to worth, it trims at the retired
lungs are as ripples as pools are for rocks

guts to the pulse as pulse spent
intestines of legs tongued-fire,
and the stones are as water as the air is of light,

twitches from finishes of a heat vent
winged-scissors on the lips of pliers,
lungs are as ripples as pools are for rocks
and the stones are as water as the air is of light

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