Jostle

To shade itself from passing rays

To gauge a sense of perfect phase

To stretch a point

The depths of which were lost



The strand

The frame

The reverence

The scans

The waiting precedence

The speech

The form

The roads I may have lost



Marked out in hi-vis

To stay blended in

Strain on your iris

And two thirds of skin

Kindly distracts

From the points that were made

It's vital these stacks of the forms be mislaid

(My mistake)