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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