It was that day Kansas lost a tooth chewing corn. It smiled at the sun, gold and gold and gold.
Mercy Seat didn’t know who its friends were, whether to eat red pills and fill its eyes with velvet night, or sit home to pray. It had a child it didn’t know; blessed that fruit with silver hands.
Bullion came in the shape of an egg. It waited for the water, that spectral cousin of steam.
It was the one that came at the end, when the crowd went home. It filled the place of black-note dot.