lexicon

by Dan Steinbacher

Drawing maps on the formica pools
sweated by the dirtiest ice,
clues of coffee cup stains
and hastily carved names.
Can’t your won’ts for awhile.

fumes redolent, rodentia scholars canvassing
tendon entombed salt—
silica futures with a cobalt tinge
counting still twitching calendars
lend me a maybe.
float inverted futurely
outside.
are these the fuels we were promised?
recasting ashes into geocached splinters
digging fog so that we can stitch our eyes apart
the stem cracks, hoses hold fluid no longer

she swims elongated, mausoleum diving through divides
like dispersion of mycelium fractals,
bored supernovae.
glass gloves underneath
ochre sloped cardinals,
where fossilized tesseracts
orbit and sink like scratches.
fogged plastic veined wings with
a spark of ozone,
graphite marked and ordering specials.

No one ever leaves, we change only seats.