wandering eyes alone in all this empty air
green dreams curled up fetal and fluorescent
lazy horrors hover on the warmish breath of the night winds current
no point of orientation in this place
even though it took them days to reach
he hesitates to listen
to stretch out his ears
to listen for a voice
the crushed iron throat of a dead giant
still heaving
the sickening sound of all these hanging things
making dull contact with each other
hollow thuds
in absolute defiance
in slow anger
with bits still clinging there against the pole
moon like an impossibly healing scar in motion
there she rises wetly
slowly growing older
in the deepening tenor of night
the blackness thins then mists away
and whirls the dawn drowning hues
around her form
her canopy
her labyrinth
her sixty second sentiment
summer dress
reborn and beautiful
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