Nude in the Eyes of a House Spider

and the boat is moving and
not even the mountains can
contain holds on the cars as they

swerve through the ice and crack
their jaws on the glass
surrounding-surface houses

are the transparency of its walls
as they talk that’s a
hand picking up mug shots
and tipping them to her lips

one lovely violet at a time in
bouquet July as
simple as a simmering tea mug with
flies accompanying the air

above it helicopters
of trees swarm
of peacocks cell
phones with legs
the size of churches

roaming suburban
neighborhood for a taste of
grey shades after rain’s dispersal
drops of bullets have faded behind
theoretical newspaper lines
paragraph paragraph

where
open mouthed
tire-chained to a skunk’s skull yawns
and with fire-hydrant eyes
the sidewalk in them dilates as
street signs fall

out of them populating
the front lawn with mites and pigeons,
spiders fall out of their noses

and collect themselves in a circle
in a birthmark
on the other side of this mirror
where you stand

examining yourself naked

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