Seven Ribbons Seven

From the rain’s facial telecommunication
A queenly rainbow’s seven ribbons seven
From the rays’ whitening wigs and gowns
Migrant birds wing grace the lonely shore
They lure the world into the far resources
In the beaded brand of the beak perjuries
Away from the injuries from the high seas
Mending the air offerings for key eulogies
The air bewilders old clouds in the rivalries
The cannonball weeps bitterly on the fords
The moon peeling the high seed for supper
And the stars staking the moon for dreams