The day’s lung held full
Shrillness in the heated grass
Collapsing on his hunting stool
Seed shells like a radiance
The oligarch flanks his tent
Salted thistle in his throat

To the family
Keep the mansion dark
And full of leaves
For this nest against the tent

The day’s lung held full
Shrillness in the heated grass
Was where the ghosts lined up
The physics of the carpet pain
The coldest depth along the stream
The darkest blue above the ridge

Collapsing on his hunting stool
Seed shells like a radiance
But how the day refused to breathe