Please carry this water for me
It's much too heavy beneath my eyes
It sloshes at my walls incessantly
drowning in and out of sighs.

You flowed your river into my well
until I could see the sun,
but the draught from 2 Septembers
has but dried me into a cold drum.

Stones now line my hollow-pit
covered in engraved words from you.
The cracked imprints from distant days
that I painfully run my fingers through.

I now climb one word a day
through fleeting truths and lies
But till my fingers crest the edge
It is nothing but dark skies.