Daniel Boyer
Wandering in a pool of stagnant fish, a woman in a black veil smokes
the whiteness of eggshell skies,
a pitiful glimpse at what should have been a smile,
rosebud cheeks dripping with false promises.
The medieval Clancy coat-of-arms bears the sharp teeth
of snow digging in front of the copper mine for green-red oysters;
nothing moves me like the toy piano when black worms slowly crawl under a thin blanket
of the predator over a bamboo shield, relishing the humidity.
Tender yeast fishhooks through low tides sifting through ambergris,
a gathering of sparks in fire from ice, she floats… they always float
Two apples lay in the corner of my mouth
like the fairest climes where wandered the dainty knight