A face and about
A tender amount
Of enough of a glance
To run a heart through
More than the blood
It takes to thank
The crowd
Their preoccupation
With where the distraction lays

In every direction
Whining mute
Always chasing
Where the fire fights
The bitter dark
Taking cream with tea
The crime tape scene
Is comic prone
To be the native son

Where the forest sleeps
Its trees being felled
And exchanged for gold
Spring magic
And a better story
Whim and while
Where rumors fly
Unstitching the incision

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Of a setback heel
Topping from bottom
Shying the beast
Cutting what could
Be considered sugarcane
Or knife’s edge
But it has the heart
Of cameras on cranes

But passed away
Sold to the highest buyer
Letting go
Of every cage
That didn’t feel the same
As the jealousy
That had impressed
The seismic moan
Of a body