Tried to pack back a pasture. Lift
the delightful nooks the heart delayed.
There is a little girl in a bottle of clouds.
There is a shiny elephant skin we wrap
ourselves in. There is a faded sponge
and a dirigible prepped for quick escape.
Had we been pierced of our inner tubes
that carry blood and our beauty squall.
I tried to apply a wedding dress to that
cloud girl. She crumpled to these casual
embrace I brought. I in turn withdraw.
For the hour ball has tempered more
than the grassy crevice glazed with dew.
My sleek foot was gentle and closed too.