like crows flock old farm houses
we belong crookedly
you belong crookedly to me

like broken bottles lined up
on the ruins of a wall
like pennies at the base of fountains
like abandoned buildings underwater
like old churches reclaimed by the forests

i wrap my ivy around your bricks and drag you into the earth
i flood the malls and old pool houses and the glass ceiling caves in
i rust the surface of you until no one else can read your worth
i line you up and aim true
in great plumes of black feathered ******, i stand in the fields
and wait for you.