Roland Bastien - Stance

Floss shred
Swine
Halved a rustle
Over butterfly winds
I'd withheld from my hiss
Sifted evidence
Slanted eyes
Slid mind
Where bodies had lain
Who snarled
Behind the haze
Of the windshield?
My ankle was
Thickened waves
It riled me as an urchin
A hive.
I detested that stance.

Roland Bastien

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stance-2/