Cavity

Where are the silver dill robes?

Under the dada sun or blue moonlight?

Some imagine there are words for love

Others just bathe in the moonlit cusp

Cavities for the lonely

Scarcities to the locus

Out here, night beasts

Wear no eyes nor tongue

And we worship the silence

In abundance of time, and forests

(On the crest of the verb

Remains no resourceful command But a space for lying

With a loved one or inward

Can the sheets be so soft

Can the Life be so Good

That we don't show what the moonlight lits)