Cups Constant

We cannot keep a city past the rest,

with rising rafters plastered higher yet.

Great gates and guns restrict the passage best,

so aim them West. Let fire break this net.

Use savior like a length of braided lines

tied high. He cascades the neck on the drop.

Display the body past the spraying pines,

left clean from drips as sand-buffed shells, thin plops

on feathered shores. Brushed past by dense water

alone, to fill and pour as cups constant.

And we are breezes of wales. Ceaseless daughters

left scattered to drag our feet in sand.

We build and we stack high

around this land like stalling night.

(Fall '10)