Whence a haunted polaroid commentary
on how lactic acid is character building,
relative to a lover’s, not to the contrary
exactly, that the best medicine is less topical,
as one under intestacy law might imagine,
but rather a dream in an old frogspawn espadrille
crying take me roughly by my dressing gown’s breadth
to the empty lot, shipping news
hieroglyph,
and let us merrily contrive to catch our
death
since all our kitchen furniture is whetted
by the best legal minds in a generation,
gift horses by each judge
equally vetted.