End of the Line

Mombi's Heads

I'm putting my dreams in a museum

Behind the thickest glass 

With a stag horn canopy

To gore tempted entry

Look at them gleam

Look at them spin

Look at them wilt from within

Missed chances at cantos dipped in lilac

Or lavender 



Tastes like wilting from within

X marks the spot

So stop at W

And amputate the end

And take the N

Stare into the eyes of the sheep's head when

You reach a beach that's already brightoned

One bright dream

Never lost its gleam

Just shed its luster

Lust? Here? 

I already lost her.

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