After Mark Rothko
The arcade I lived in was the cryptograph, more or less.
The dog named Mila demanded evidence of the crowd.
You rented a room in the hotel by the sea.
People appeared Balticly.
Rhymable child opening the chasm with her teeth.
The chasm that defines the solace.
The solace that has hooves.
It trots through the cool ash without leaving footsteps.