Ancestors from down the corridor,
say four – want to look at using two
if not three but four is queen – laziness
tries to go with hall too, but corridor
sighs and spits a glob of nails – so ancestors,
say four doors down the corridor,
conferred to her skin a shade akin
to olives the adventurer
would expect to find in a Spanish
market, becoming export to these beaches
the sea’s foams tease and since returning to the bed
in the garden she first knew the fertile
from seeds and for the sands is overlay.
In the spread of graceful sprinkles the frosts
were never the slightest bit stingy.