| Gazelle |
| Machinery of her way A shiver shaves the day Leads gazelle astray The quiver paves her way Grasses thick as thieves Mosses, brush and leaves Kisses kick and squeeze She crosses quick and weaves Cut through field of lions Run blue black the talons Risk to hack the pylons Swiftly tear the curtains Blood torn road careens Bruised worn her seams Brawn sawn obscene Break down her dreams Hungry sun beats down Shadow bleached from ground Penetrate her frown Path is white as sound |