Cannikin

For Mother Russia’s orphan; five flowering megatons, an American quilt of soil. Fish float to nets now the scaled tide rattles sonar, harpooned on prohibited kelp. For American Dreams the white house incubus awakes yawning up the forty ninth star. At the shadow-less ceremony salmons float in marble slipstreams waxed with doe eyed Harvard clones The nine carat nib signed Nixon. He sauntered to a rest room grey returning to the press room black In Alaska the bellies of sea birds are oceans free-falling a mile below moon to ice.