Thin winged glimmer scenting the air
Before settling amongst the twilit greenery
Of a yard in escape
Seen through membranous tissue
The world seems a dream
Dotted with the chaotic pluckings of fat-limbed toddlers
Overwhelmed by pubescent longings
For life after the incessant bombing
Of tallowed sheets
Wrenched from their cankerous moorings
The improbability of escape nestling within
Your robin red-breasted kindness
Drenched with the decayed sweetness
Of labored breathing
Channeled into a corona of emptiness
Managing to appear ripened
When in fact it has been dead for years
What more can you do
With dreams that have been thrust
Pulsing and red
Down your throat
By those who have failed to escape
From the fettered wings
Of mismanagement