Wanda

Your face like a drone, somewhere far from ecstasy, tells me all I know, far many a time, the daily conspiracy, our life's on the line, your mouth a cruel loan, that a body pulls free, rests on your bones, on Sunday's drink wine, a white tablecloth seizef, love in this ugly clime, every death a footnote, flags dance in trees, float on ocean stones, our house besides the sea, at the bottom of the road, brings us some fantasy, our bodies list and groan, let us dare to free, angels coming home, alive for all eternity.