A line of windows and walls

the icons of old endings

and new beginnings.

Scary art.

Fragments of the divine,

mosaic memories

basking in polyester

doused with sparkling water,

a new wives' tale,

in a city of some square million.

The dust caked on a door's head-pane,

there the ray hits

the nail, the set-jaw of the afternoon

as I buried that light in claret,

and held three cushions

pinioned in a love's dusk.