Inventory Fragmented stars lash the palm, your body flinched against the tide, astounding light; within the touch, each shard that slides like sun-sweet grasses floating far — where the green gripped blue in asphodel landmarks, there is depth without root, and the unbroken hymning cradles laughter, yet still—time steeped in waters insists on remaining open vast and unclaimed.

• Mina Loy