spent necks shouted down
past icicle sheets
around the surfaces of buildings.
those towers rise up in wrath,
grey whales from under earth
that spit waves from the windows
where we sit and watch the world.
like diabetic starlights, space rocks
shaven down to dullness and inedibility,
strung lines of flight held back, bent
against invisible seas. we will
be pushed by microbes
from mud-bottom graves
that send us all like zombies
the asylum is shut. the city
droops its eyes in daylight. God
takes all things back
through the windows of our behemoths.
ducks and doves and broadbills
hit like raindrops
upon the unforgiven ground.