You drew me out,
through dappled and pocked skin.
Led me upland out
By the place where they would interrupt
The cold, clammy granite.
Slapped granite
Scarred
In a barter to locate our passed.
I appealed to a future in the racket,
Entomb my future.
And we moved with the intention,
The intentions of those we had read.
With supplies and plans.
Ephemeral was the time.
You had me listen as though
There had been none before.
No sound.
Grit on the ground.
And wet dispatched.
Sedimenting company engraves.
Now clotted with residue.
We stalked a line in the padded sod leaves.
Curved to the overpass.
And hung we,
Peered for the edge
At the outrage of our urge.
We retreat and meander,
Once more, to the eaves.
You would covet from me
And elicit my catholic shame.
Deftly.
