# People Staying Busy

**by Violet Treadwell Hull**

A buzz tells you
The nest has set

New hands so full of blood
Cinched by them and tasting of old times

It was whisked
Frothed

When they miss you
And all

Turned upside down
Baked

My eyes are all bigger and smaller
The time passes like glass in every form

Cooked
Cooled

Acid has been growing in my bowl
And in my angles

Even with all this fluff
All of this tough softness

It could drain out of my sockets
With chin tilted upwards

You will eat spinach
In the night

To avoid the numbers
And the four girls

And pour ginger
Into every opportunity

Running with foreheads challenging one wall
Feet hitting the firmament in time

Already having found the reasons
To keep burning up

And searching to find the method of measurement
That lets my brain sleep the most