morose
moonless
musket
mouse-loaded
rifling under the sink in the bags
or bragging of its stealth-annulled motion sensors
to the dark that harbors
the unmoored murderer.
unmurdered,
I mourn
for the morning,
the mouse
censored, too, rues
(and the killer as well
must regret)
rousing me:
all fell still
clipped in the safety
of the wind-barrel (insensate steel)
...although Matt
saw a bottle.
