Presentation

Your crumpled newspaper
Your lashed branches
Your danger
Your miniature court
Your dioramas
Your asides
Your sink
Your brambling

Winds bury papers swathed in plastic

Your light left on
Your sideways
Your clutching
Your patterns (shields)

And though girls approached me
having traversed the woods
what could I tell them?

I have known the woods too
but embraces are worthless here
So I retreat leaving them to consider
the opposite way

And having wrapped myself in shudders,
I press blankets under the surface
Night into night

Your herald
Your spy
Your distant perch

To collapse here
in the night
a smudge
a stutter