Along the dark burrow of grass and snow,

Winds careen and wrap around poles of red,

And I breathe in exhaustion and apprehension ahead 

Of kingdoms born that deserve the knife.

The same exact words are repeated in time:

Nothing changes—we don’t stay the same.

We grow and spread and play the game.

I couldn’t think of a better way to live my decline

My love’s in stone and whistle reeds

And fields unaffected by the forces that take eye 

Without mercy of our godless communion.

Take me completely, and let us survive 

In service of each other and our wants and dreams.

No death come before me, and no death shall I see.

Relapse of my brain, and you wring me out—

You wrench me like a towel in day.

I lie in your hands, and you slowly twist out with a kiss.

Old water and words I couldn’t get out:

Sing me to sleep with your saccharine whisper,

And let us lay about as cats of no mothers.