I sat behind your seat
and spoke incessantly,
like a corral reef
I laid myself open
part algae, part azure.
I knew then I was adrift,
too much had run under my bridge.
Longing was  academic.
Gardens become a cutting metaphor.

The next time I saw you
this  draw bridge
would have become a parapet
if you had not already known.
Only my eyes had the courage
to realise
I  no longer found shelter in your words