Militaristic Means

in this shade
preoccupied with
minutes, as they
suction cup walls
off this
focused neon
sign, plotting
course for water
for waltzing bridges
to swing their
chandeliers over
shoulders of metallic
rib-cage, boat-oarsman,
moat-handling,
cuddled coupon-collective debates,
before morning can take
arms, it’s

perfectly normal
to wait out a
storm drain as it
tries to negotiate
oceans down it’s
lying open mouth,
cat-fed-star-fish-teeth, jaws
of Atlantis
in the warped
fine-print of
China plates,
mumbling pointed
fingers at quiet-corners
who simply want space
for the suit
of their moments,

but lies
don’t enjoy
peppermint when it’s
all accord
and appears
outdated in their
mailbox

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