grace

It’ll stop you in your tracks

then

The causation equals likely to

Dry mouth

Like a mausoleum

Containing frozen words that bite

Metallic but quickly dissolve to dust

As the interior folds in on itself

The space

Getting smaller and smaller

due to articles

objects

an infrastructure

of a certain fragile fiber of the foil

The master sifter with his sieve

Collects the almost implosive particles

Trying to hide and disguise and

Tell of the reverse that’s already been won