there is a
tremor
shivering along
my timid

the sound
of champagne
glasses
clinging
or the dulcet
tones
of silver bells
sending
shimmers
through my
quicksilver
anxieties

a horse
a cow
a herd
of slant pupilled
goats
the smell of
fresh hay

the snap
crack
of plastic

she beckons me
enter
wade
in the headwaters
of saline
disaster
painted
with broadstrokes
of ebon
disease

my mouth
tastes
of pennies
the air
smells
of
bleach
as a constant
dripdripdrip
booms
through
static inductions

painshivers
frolic
across
the empty
expanse
of cerebellum
catastrophe
sparking
lilacs
in flame

the braying
ass
of insolent
indignation
stares
morosely
at the rest
of this
crystalline
menagerie
of unburied
complications.