chop that trumpet call & reassemble it
as a lunar tune or anthems in reverse
from the cosmos's imagin'd corners
choirs home in on yr inner ear
all hollows mourn
(in this simplified ecology of sound)
like a supermodel on a scallop shell drawn by dolphins the wind thuds in her ears
but you hear nothing
her page boy blows a conch
for the battle fluids of the republic
punch drunk in starlight
this scene is a city
sequestered, dark
sparkling