The room. The white piano. br The stars gone slack. br The unmistakable rising up br to meet her. In heels and br a dark suit. A green light. A wing. br An accomplice. Silence and br more. Not silence. The mandolin still br trembling, still holding its moan. br Scar of light on the page. The blade br of an old story. The hand, the voice, br the deep pocket. Whatever stars are left. br The map, the spit and polish. br The sky like a great pond. br The drift. The notion. br The wine with its warm hide. br The lavish hand grenade. The stars and more. br The cloud, its soft harness. br The well. The wound. The warning.