¨ ‘Trance’ —page

‘Trance’

You’re on a walk And you notice some things, You hear those two talk Under the streetlight’s Hazy husk. Why are those Wrinkled windows Winking? Collapse overflows Out of one, outlines stare through the other.

Walk.

Further.

See How the scorpions are nothing But branches rattling away the light, How the houses contort, bending Away - invisible weathervanes Holding their breath, ensuring you’ll Never get

Home. The curtains are drawn. The sun can’t come through, Only the frost lives to crawl on Her body.

Where were you?