Prairies are the extensions of photos from visiting hours, mimosas growing in pans,

winter pots as the car’s bumper, fish soups boiling in the doll cabinet

This is a nursery of dreams, and when coronation day comes stay away.

Soon, grasslands cleaves with all the wrong tones sung, the unwary tumbling down bowls

of sesame paste, babies lose their mouths

All this, set off by the tremors of three sails in different exotic skies,

searching for unrecovered suitcases that had carried a household,

abandonment still ringing distantly in the yearbooks stowed inside, away