Building toward Narrative

Why not? On rereading the previous post, after a few lines, maybe by "Gneiss," I'm bored. As I rethink, I find myself wondering where the verbs are. Also, 1. and 2. feel like they need to be shuffled.

***

Oil rests on water. Ink
diminishes light.
Boil and totter. Wink the alphabet. Integer.
Vinegar stings.
Up can be over. Down and ouch,
obstinate as ice,
the onion pushes back at the knife.
Rice opens. Drown the couch. Inflight dirt.
Gneiss crumbles into gneiss.
And, but, for this region molten,
my grandmother, henceforth, and all of the glaciers
gliding away on their own melt.
Maybe it's a sign.
Band leader. Birth mother.
Hope and fear chase each other.
Jail. Jail. Jail. Pling.
Tree line. Afterlife.
Oh, empty. Oh, spectrum.
Reponsibility is doing the right thing at the right time.
One dollar bill holds an apology note.
The rest hold out. Oven hands.
Stove heart.