pride as pregnant
after he had placed the last snow-white fern into the
frame
he would pace the dull halls of the gallery in his
ash-brown suit
dragging his big golden knuckle-ring across the stone
table
leaving an invisible scratch
then pause when blonde hair fell through an open
door;
=
light strangles/
it moves up in the shape
of a substance
a man standing still on the landing
and you hit it
walking down
and it sticks
to you
a perfect mask
of cuneiform grasshoppers
each tiny body covering your breath
now holding your tongue out
solid brown
as rough as bedlam
the long scratch glowing in the dark
