Like water of a well,
We could breach the summer beach.
And over silver, set sail
Towards islands I have not seen
Or half-dreamed
On some loud, crashing evening.
And you were there
Looking handmade out of
Multi-color glass,
Only asking if we could talk
Sometime before
You go.
And there again lies my reason
For ducking into the sand,
For breaking off a hand.
Like the beating wings of moths,
Another thing I can’t control,
Another fate I watch roll like a corpse
Down a ruptured hill.
I have a shining city to go back to,
And if my heart were to crack,
That would be an unfortunate handicap.
An invisible cog splintered.
One, wet drop in the cup of time.
So what’ll it be, my dear absence?
What kind of promises would you make
If you knew they could not break?
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