Aspirate a note, a sounding in a silo
entombed beneath wet sand where
indigo, salt, sugar, tobacco, cotton, rice
preserve a desperate hybrid crop.
Mouth organ at midnight.
One woman supine, another
quadrilles—all blush crinoline
and caramelized curls—in a swamp:
what slithers and steams, moss.
Antiseptic sun, bleached-bone
sheets twist in the first stirrings
of a storm held offshore by
a single, vibrating chord
as the laundress digs for clams
in the shoal, starlit and moon-dark.
The string snaps. A rupture.