Keyboard of a Praxis 48


                       (perhaps like a piano's)


white keys


         now turned green: no blaek;

syllables without you


your stare hidden in this page


                         once covered with useless verses ages ago


(diaphanous sobbing under the bed sheets)


eyes still more indifferent spying on,


the target's perfect centre




                           here in your mind


and among lost items.