sentence raze so every cloud is an inarticulate assassin with a poppyseed stuck between its two front teeth, an interloper where two blotched bits of enamel meet, wedged in there so well that no thin thread of silk or wooden staff will displace it, and if every puddle i see is an unanswered prayer, i'll fall to my knees and lap at the faith of an unfamiliar precant, knowing what was pure in them is sure to turn toxic in me, hoping whatever doesn't kill me will make me more interesting at dinner parties; but what i've convinced myself is rain is only my bed being moved by my body — boxspring masquerading as skylight — and there's nothing to drink here but the shallow pool of water my mouth has already made. 220405 ... ovenbird The crabapple pelts, abandoned and rotting, call the wasps to scrape the last fat from their skins, with their swan song sweet and thick as blood and the endometrial earth despairing, shedding, its follicles collapsing into ferment while my dog, with his nose to the ground, gets drunk on the fumes, and I, dressed hastily in the navy-blue corduroys that sat at the bottom of the drawer all summer, now rank with mildew, sniff at death’s cup of fizzing cider, and think, “this is my favourite season…these darkening days, these fallen leaves, these shrivelled corpses with their formaldehyde dreams, this blade of geese, this long good-bye.” 260919 what's it to you? who go blather from