Liminal space is

only unlimited in  

dream's geometry 

The tiny flame

gutters out unable to 

hold on against hate

Walk the razor's edge 

too dull to deal with shadows

from just five o'clock 

Perhaps it would have 

been best if the Wampanoag 

had let the Brits starve 

 Give thanks for the meal,

but be sure not to choke on  

the bones that they throw

Your knives are broken

and your lies are hushed so go 

back to your dark cave 

Letters from the dead 

take on shades of meaning not

known until later