I saw you at the end
when your rain of rust arrived
when copper colors
sparkled in the slits of your shoes
I knew you were ashamed
rode alone into the night
but we didn't care
if you wore a wound or no wound
think of this
you were of earth
when our posture was still simple
when my hair was still cut straight
across my ankles
speck of serpant ship arises
over the horizon
by fossilized light
I can recall the times when
your charm-chain wore thin
we went away in the year of the viking
I have sewn the surgery
don't concern yourself with our burden
we hear you sing of meadows,
meta-sentimental reservoirs
those days are gone
there are no shores which are not yet carved