Forgot all but your spine-rattles
Under garments, white
You filed your talons
On my houndstooth jacket
We sat through marble
And pall altars
Foiled were our plans
Mapped without jurisdiction
Where does the heart turn
Against bristling earshot
Where does the mouth meld
With symbolic alignment
Zippered, with no aim
Bruising, flapping adverbs
Binding woe in the slats
Of the Memphis sun
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