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