Jan
5
years and years of accumulation, dust of ages, the hearth and home the only things we build that last are lined with the devil’s cobalt for if it were than it would be
a sinner’s staircase, slippery and chock with unwashed travelers
an ornate elegy for Etiquet, who first broke forth along an early star
and so a lifetime lost lives on in the unlatched cellar, unwatched,
stellar only in its lack of stars : it does not await
