wound is dime in three (dimensions)

all diminuendo blushes backhand
(do you read me)
bracketed perfume lines down
its socket wrench

and wheels go flute
and while the feather
in a valley blows away
unnoticed children play

the riveting commercials
till we're plied with shoots
and looking out from lenses
in a capture mode

consider the ode
about to be imparted
to the window light
and thus absorb oncoming flight