The Roach

A nub of sorts.

A narrowing dialect, tactile

Legs all tangled in the telephone lines

Oxygen flame---arhythmia through the yellowlight

Cockroach on the wall and in the street

An improbable universe, prehensile

Insect memory in summer dripping amber

The pines of May, June, July, now

So a drag or two deeper into crystal sky

Will linger into cloud and cloud again