stepping on ashgroves

the dowry straits with hammers of needle pairs
capturing the blessed harmony of strangers’s spikes
where no conversation would have them, no troubles
no great delinquent piers like a subtle hidden address
resurrected to be miscalculated or thorned in the brittle bush
like a favored weed, stepping on ashgroves, stammering
where too tall virgins and maligned cigarettes show
on Sunday, for staple autumn fairs like ghastly machines