for Yahia Lababidi and Carl Terver
our milk gets infested with ants
we spill more than we rein
it is like a wave – arrives quickly
as it leaves – moments curdle
powdered sky on tuscan terrain
ghosts stalk angular tips of roofs
the mountains have risen
from salt pink as sea-rock
windows are washed in medallion
gold; birds have fled concrete sills
houses swirl in kinetic pools
when the ocean lost its gravity
inside the safe harbour of our minds
winds clang nervously as clumsy bells
our milk has spilled –
ants canvas territory
the tar on roads sweat their foreheads
heat has melted in its pot of indifference
our skins are red bricks of graffiti
dissipating as aerated cans of paints
summers have caramelised
fish wings in thick waters
the sight of blue is a site of grey
forage: ships hunt as water escapes
First published in The Ekphrastic Review
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