Mansion

Her nest is full of her

Acquisitions the hue of butterfly 

The cry of listless parsed imperatives

As neighborly as any mansion

Close to topping in recent memory 

Protected on a screenshot of the infant 

Tide besmirched au naturel

Aside from habitual modernity

Over the transom in a minute pride 

In prox to perimeters as oval as wash

Left hanging on the line in tandem

With the louvered doors hovering 

And bandaged as if future tense were

Small