Maybe it’s not poisonous
These candy peach pastels
over ivory structures
glinting bright thoughts skyward
Harbour carpet fuzzing blue
with little puppy-boats frolicking
all the way through it
Silver lines, silver lines
tracing the truth
Of all the armor-plated spines
erecting this city of youth
Between the green of ever-been
Atop the island wall
Maybe after all we’ve seen
It’s not poison after all