UNFINISHED MASK

Free pregnancies retreat from reason.

A soup of smoke, winds regenerated to threaten.

Intimate umbilical, intuition severed.

Bloody wetland primeval.

Duly abandoned by the flock, king-sized

Ripples host holes right through dips.

The mystical closeness of the vile.

Come death, a countdown so complacent.

And lips do their best to copy nature.

All this lack is potential use.