This is an exercise from Peter's Virtual World, based on an N7 exercise from http://www.godsrudewireless.co.uk/n7/.
It's like Babelfish meets Jabberwocky.
Oh my, I do love this exercise! I'm sure that you can guess the origin of this poem.
Sundown Song
I've turned you over like a fine gold fob.
The whisper slapped your eardrums, and your sobs
Took their place among featherpillows.
Watch your back, old statue.
In a drafty room, your blankness
Savages the windows. I stand blankly, shadows whisper.
I'm no more your murderer
Than the caul that covers a mirror, to reflect its only
Face--an empty hat.
All night your moon-white
Skin flickers among the flat black shadows. I wake to sleep:
A sentence moves over my head.
One day, and I’m stunted, bent croquet-heavy
In my shirtwaist sorrow.
Your eyes open, clean as wonder. The wind
Talks its dull tales. And now you fly,
fluttering your fingers:
The white tines rise like birds.
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