@clworldtraveler's Review of Atlas Kitchen - New York, New York

A band of color like a secret song Folded at the color of the night Citrus peel and a thread of tin fingers Trace the margin where light is taut The motion is small, a private geometry A gentle log that turns without a name We keep our breath within the curve Let the waveform carry what we Barely clean Indigo fail to breathe it in Silk of blue banana