The heavings of a brittle marrow
Are smothered in the static.
The new set’s on and making ground,
Crackles crisp then dampened down,
Baring details of the day.
A table clock in arabesque,
A mirror flares dramatic.
A vase that hides a razor lip,
Its flowers fresh, neatly clipped
All dressed up to die away.
Great Exudations 