A leach on a statue, and small cups
of red, and purple wine, a slippery hand
enters, and spreads some darkness on
that well oiled sundial.
A whistle drifts on the wet earth, and
the medicine finds the spot, another
hand shoots itself out, and takes hold
of the mud, then putz it in a safe box.
DAVID GERARDINO
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/well-oiled-sundial/
