carve you, me,
made godly a being from
kink of Earth when all
hands and the leprous
sneer of folding pavement sway
swing a swift embrace,
bringing a face
when you read me blind,
crooning a tune
when you reverberate me deaf,
touching me warm
when you swarm me coldly,
fevering me a saltine sweat
when you chase around
a fleeting image,
preening through the impedance
or was it a dance
when you move me, limbless—
leitmotif lures
to nets of waiting
when you break the hue
of an adjusted format
telling no lost piece; oh, you,
i, our strangeness, our fondled ways,
our being taken away to care
for only rogue night. our
having chanced upon each other
in between mellifluous slowness
of paces and our frequent sojourns,
looking for something
unfamiliar.