Jail

These hands
won't come apart.
I'm strapped to the altar.
Your laughter casts a long
shadow over the sentence.
This time, our tying
together, let's call it
enough.
Weren't you put here
to make music?
If there is some ending
excepting me,
let it be your way out.
Through the bars
our hands come apart,

before you slide back
into the jealous dark—
how it always was.