Jesse Abbot has a way with stanza breaks. This is from his September 23rd p.o.a.m.:
May the drunk sun of paradox rise
in churches that banish it to Limbo & its kind.
May some limbs in which we linger nights
be there to comfort grieving mums
of war by day, the tears deposited
as honest as proprietary lovers’ clues. (italics mine)
“grieving mums / of war by day” has a smooth set of jumps.