Skin in Sunshine

Vibrations scuttle into the rough lines of a parched field.
Each erect string aches under a silver staccato
– the sun’s improbable densities tap
wells that never knew their maker;
pink layers of Tesla-bound circuitry brazed into beautiful
two-dimensional corpses. All gone through,
the nervousness of parched white skin
shimmers and flinches
– a Dickensian twitch for a neutrino itch.
Winded quanta, its father bound with electric-tap,
gags with lurching positivity, and all gone through
with pomp and circumstance as loose curls writhe themselves loose
from a burning white heart, stained with hollow black spots.