A hoarding of timelessness sits with
A voider, a deletion.
A tube in a living-room marries
An Aspidistra, which fingers our residue.
We are the awkward carpenters,
Poring over the graphology of ennui;
Batchelors before art.
Cities sink into their beds,
A million crackling palms
Scoop away the splinters, kids.
Joseph still can’t believe his luck –
Sharpening knives is simpler here.
Coathangers slip quickly
Inside the wives of the riverbed.
(Static creeps –
Deliverence, flash twice.)
We are the asphalt-tonguing
Crows can’t help but
Tear our twice¬-torn clothes right off.
Change the channel, and
Suddenly, we are old.