No Rescue for the Favored Owl Trespass

A requital for passable eyed schisms like a day
until the roses wilt. No maze in the light of
the room until there are swords like stallion
grazing arrangements stopping short of
coming home.

Our grandfather’s inamorata scolding
the children and sending us all to bed
for asking for a few songs from her
secret instrument panel. A dying desk
like a trapped horn under regulated hope
that does not require surgical incision.
Just a parting falter.

Assume and consider the songs of the
flood like a door-water waiter expecting
ruins like gross income. A full day’s
grip on kindness. A passway to flooding
succession in the doorway. Let him tie his
handwritten letter to the papal consort. No
enemies in his endangered language.

Gourds like warning lights in the shape
of trials in California. They did not waste
matter or constructs. They did not dispense
the towering beach crumbling behind
the soul’s doorway. The recompensed
amusement ladder like the final crisp
porch light in town.