grace is in the dormer passing choir

here where ships set her out to life
waste baskets caught the remaining sediment
clasping on window frames in cloudy morning buckles and bristles
whether the weather rushed outside, we missed the touch
tallow candle retreats fall across the groundskeepers’s birds

the way we laughed at each other was like angels that peddle satire
now only the loose fathering bellow strangers could forget
the tall long leaves of lost journals and pearls like fabricated memories
tucked away where lost pets join the ascending afterlife
we forget the stalls of place under geometry and stolid airplanes

fadeometer and weatherometer signs that never lifted off the page
were not unlike the tools we used to measure our love for each other
our love for god, distilled inside floating palace scarp, do not dye emphyteutical trials
we should have never signed stationed state documents, now we are guilty
reprobation for centuries of lying to find the world kind, some smearing of steadfast constancy