what a tongue flick. a comet-tail
a touch of poison; a fluid sail
lithe
raised upright in a misty wood
to catch winds for long-abandoned boats 
a land-loch, waiting for heaven 
waiting, like I would 

pressed against a door frame 
mounded from earth and ash 

a home writ upon 
these hostile lands:
a space of teeming life 
mistook greens and greys
blotches and heightened braille
 on sterile white
rorschach misfits
like welts raised: painful

but beautiful. 

the gasp that turns the leaf
the cold shock of the damned
the deep 

a mistake of an earthy,
cracked-lipped kiss
too good to be true
too panged to be false 
and just like that 
it was paradise, lost 

head
and hands
and fine steel 
a guillotine to take what's real
with the remains 
in some loose shape 
called me .