The rain wears on
your limestone skin
as umbrellas are held
off your center by granite others.

I extend a hand
as if you weren't 20 miles deep.
Advertise a cure
and deliver smoke to gasping lungs under the guise.

In this tenebrific atmosphere
I claim to be brave while clinging to my torch.
Endless succorance performed
and answers given from behind glass and across telephone lines.

I only know of the place
where the pace is kept
to the time of constant mizzle.
Perhaps I could spot it on a map, from far away.

How is one in the Fourth
to help another in the Third?
Folly to believe I could stop the bleeding.
Laughable when the scarless comment on how to suture.