cherry trees 

trellised with
wistful veils of
frail and
verdigrised, 
sun-lapped
lips, the
yucca trees,
wind-whipped,
sinew distended in
snuffling worm-
snug roots stuffed
under the pol-
len-flecked,
fawn-freckled
tracts of coal-
black tarmac
tucked around Mad-
ison Place—as a 
wrist brace cribbing a-
stringent pangs of a
seamstress, seemingly nit-
picking stitches—She
wishes the city, old
hucksters shoal for
gold or everything gold
must mutter of, felt
as the frowsy, pool-
felt firs that fan-
brush gushing
pink cheeks of the
treacly leaning, pearl-
proud water tower im-
pinging trembling
bricks off
Cox St.