I want to see daylight...
a false prophet drones__
"who cares" is a marked
park bench. Enthroned,
robed in linen, a sun-
lit gauze. Refractory
she weeps of problems
between threads melting away.
Feel them anyhow:
tulle and twill, rib-less nature
is a cancer
needs to be clothed,
enclosed; toil and beauty bent
twisted in the loom
and was overthrown.
