I could
topple these towers
a thousand times over
and from the gathered rubble
they would emerge;
faces spun like webs
dancing among the branches.
And you being the only one
there ever was
would collapse against
the wayward sky of my choosing.
But all that I see along the shore
is trees upon trees
laid neatly like the silhouette
of a thousand smokestack corpses.
No, my love, I will not feed you
to a pit of absolutes.
For you, nothing but my death
would ever do.