The air is threatening

            with the scent of green



and worms folding space

between the dancers

The castoff light

is a division                    Stagger across the highway barefoot

fluid out here       so precious

every street is empty                  every TV on

We must not hope

must not hesitate

we must lay ourselves down in the nest of hoary hair


what is left but the embrace

isn’t this it         the moment of the outbreak

people dancing in their homes              overripe as vine tomatoes