I looked to find you
Eyes painted with dust
Cocooned in market cloth
A basket full of chicken feet
At the thunderclap, I frazzled
All the pink fat within me
Fulgurite burst from my mouth
Blown glass of breath
Anyone worth his sand
Stopped to marvel
But to speak the taste of charr
Of burnt grit - licking a old oven
That tacky mouthfeel of spent oil
After, in the chesty cough a cave
It can look a thing and be another
