Golden Grin

All sixes and sevens but faithfully catalogued
A yawn from the kerosene mouth of antiquity
Clepsydra’s overgrown, steam-soaked with anchor fog
Tempers and harrowing drought plead iniquity
The crux of the outage oh small thoughts seize territory
Sparring with icons in mind on their christening
Flux in the daily ballet aids contingency
Split canvas ripples in cyclical glistening
A wrung-tape sieve seeks the ore
A slow shape sewn in the shore
Limbs of benevolence writhing in purity
Harmony burned its own fuse bare to recollect
Hemlines and asthma and tithing security
Rasping with charon, resenting the architect