blood and ashtrays on Dilworth Farm

peace for consecrate pronunciation
of guillotine gusts markings where
guesses of patriot standings in strand,
pro-government leftists are the doctored

new centrists stealing hammers and nails
across the sacred vowing protruding hearts,
mailing scattered hailing storms,
bedrest cops upon gorgeous mistakes

making each one of us better people
in one way or another, inside them,
lines of patterned causeways laughing
alongside laying prisoners, see how

the prisoners now have just swapped
places, but have not grown their souls
or comfort prodding tools in the blood
and ashtrays, show me your evidence texts,

see your signature dip, what they don’t tell
you in pursuit of a criminal is that you risk
becoming one of them, friends joined anew,
what telling hearts fund clockwork strings
disputing raisin wine for the patrimony
of tired, recondite hands on Dilworth Farm