Slipping rib Gas station fume The stalled out wind put fingers on me The meadow line showed darkness to me Light delusion curtain Old black mouth garage roared open Damp rope teeth Sharp baleen breath Blue tarp wrinkled tongue said something Unfinished thought A massive shape is falling She is calving We are close Great slipping rib Gas station fume Above an eerie light is forming A massive shape is falling We are close Don't know the height I can no longer see the forest in this light