poisoned ochre-green

in the parking lot
mercury vapour cones drop the snow
to the ground
goaded within piles of
light

thin cotton sheets are a second skin on you
sagging, like they were shed yesterday
left to dry and fall away

I can see you search our
voices, loosened from your brow
they fall to the liquid depth
behind your darting eyes

gently pulled from delirium and
settled into this broken space
this misshapen wreck of
a thought, your body

you gather up the words
your mind has absently
strewn across the stamped lined and
feel them slip and angle past us
lost, melted in the
fluorescent wash