The sound of animosity
wakes you up.
There was a shadow war.

The ethnic otherness,
when you were ditching
the sermons, the adjectives.

Will you accept the
atrocity of nouns who keep
on inviting the fat spiders?

The vision has failed.
I don’t find any cue
to the nests of sparrows.

Ah, the booming guns.
But I was talking
to Sisyphus.