Another Is On The Lam

puce reeds chill in a hammock, and
Rajhun is the name of the wolf
that did not eat Joseph

the cote of money
colours is baby see

flowing and perfect language
moves across the face of the moon

on my knees
a space encompassing shoulders
takes on its role

'the slave of love'
the tenderest bubble

there is no visible seeming
in your surface