If lightning were to flow
like molasses
I would shock
the concrete
awake
This smile
would charm
cadavers
Somnambulistic slumberers
climbing
from graves
A step above ground
to taste
discarded flowers
Signifiers of loss
Such beauty traded
for remorse
Rueful smiles
Plaintive lips
and tears that might
soak that collar
to a smudge
Such colourful diffusion
All black and clouds
Like molasses
when it flashes
bright in the evening’s
ink-well