trembling lines of doctors and taste

within the thrush, an oblique
shattered missile aims pointedly
at zero waste subscriptions and
tangible assets that react within reach

we have called the doctor
we did not trouble her to stay
after all, you were not dressed for company
when did you last wash your hair
with tonic water and handmade soap

leashes for motherless as the gravé meadows enters your vision
in wastewater for intent and redress
and handwriting not worth mentioning
we left you without a voice
we took your presence and made
a brittle army for decorating
in the brittle harmony of your eyesight
in the rift of your equations