CLOSE

 I close the lid of the merging lipids;

And I open the pourer pot of polyp

Hail to certain reference

In olfactory alchemy I thought was sufficient

In the organs, seethed interview of entrails in discordant lullaby

Never enough to lure

A sponsored somnambulist

Rummaging for the lost quarts of an inch

Of hounds

Of pounds

And the crimson flesh of Haram

Only to format a colour like a sweaty & panting painter

Honing for pulmonic wings

Of fate

Just like the fairy jerk-soul of a caregiver

Whose pecuniary symptoms are just a way of the garlands

Interred and scorched for the pilgrimage

To eternity.

I close.