Your friend composes warily on the subject of enclosures Boundaries, demarcations, edges of knives But thinks also of you, subject to lonesomeness And sends twelve flowers as a promise if you need them. It was poetry. It wasn’t very good poetry, but it seemed to be an allusion meaning oh fuck did the edgeshine-of-a-knife ezuazuacat throw you in prison and can I help? It was unsigned.
