Night-hinted marriage & old story ******* - then another mono morning, my mind a mountainside. When I almost make you late, your face so serious, my polished misericorde slips between the shining plates, it knows with such precision where to cut. It's a proving hour, long ices of thought, before I pull it out. You rest your head against me & I imagine dropping the blade into a scabbard of blue hydrangeas. I ask of you, if I lay down beneath your troubles, empty my unhappy hand.