Slipping rib
Gas station fume
The stalled out wind put fingers on me
The meadow line showed darkness to me
Light delusion curtain

Old black mouth garage
Roared open, damp rope teeth
Sharp baleen breath
Blue tarp wrinkled tongue said something
Unfinished thought

A massive shape is falling
She is calving
We are close
Great slipping rib
Gas station fume
Above an eerie light is forming
A massive shape is falling
We are close
Don’t know the height
I can no longer see the forest in this light