after the scything
the world vibrates ever
with loss
you lift to my shadow
plead of me
mistaken
break my heart

I offer
not what you ask
but otherwise
fashion trust from
breakage
camouflage the harm
from within
without
as well

embrace the thorns
with which I bolt the same sky
to the edges
of changed imagination
weave bladed bits of severance
into comfort
of a kind

faith in her
you

tuck silent
arching
wanting
into meuse

and be

still

.