Dead speak; asking is water
a crushing spirit
after all?
Rain sings softly (insatiably)
to my eyelashes.
We didn’t know the body
was a tool;
Flute
Bassoon
Bagpipes in the rain;
I am on the verge of a broad
barren drone of cars behind
our patch of trees and vines.
Less than half of us
drive to Dairy Queen
for a treat.