warped veldt
So tall, she eyes through mirror shards and sawdust:
Coins of air, spirals, and corked bloodless vessels.
Above and ' low the builders' restless wrestles
Fixates her ' purpose: to guard from a downthrust.
Found her wishing to weep: X-braces redraw rust:
Oxides of outsiders; say, rain or pestles
Lynch her rigidity, triangles, trestles,
Dye the alloys, yet stillness she has promised.
I know it moves her, but she stands so unswayed.
Needs to cry, therefore paint splatters assist her;
Gee, without splotches, teardrops couldn't've been displayed.
She cries of triumph, for the builder has made
Of the drywall, a home—she heals a blister.
But the petrichor has her true tears delayed.
burnt wind