Snowflak
       

Climbing in the fall line, an avalan

-che on the verge of the tongue, a
splurge might trigger a surge of
further spending, pending
funding:
                    S 1—S 2, with a neutral
filter—lanceleaf yellow,

                    alyssum white—my
brain a splash of
Keshi pearls a

shot of Bulleit,
neat,
            by applying the platform to

other verticals.
You cannot step into the infidel
water, ghostlit

and hexed with a glitch
                    the kaleidoscopic
asteroid trench
in its patch,
a backdoor in the encryption protocols.

The predawn
            branches are toothed with a freeze

like a mirror right after a fist,
a calligraphy
of brittle sutras wheezing through the dark.
            Please wait

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Copyright © 2020 Andrew Zawacki All rights reserved
from Unsun
Coach House Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission