Could I tell you,
That you were supple
as the string
that guides the long days
and the careful nights
the musculature of the mice
that comb the fields
looking for the loamy place
there we sat

Could I tell you
That you were the soft
gentle breeze
that tousled my hair
angered my nose
upturned
and sneezed
no compliment to give
yet constantly
there

when I hold a ruby in my hand
or a pearl by your ear
it is you I see

I cannot guide these words the same

I will machinate
But never create
the same feeling
you gave

The soil does not loam today
it is still and packed
at long last
it rests

The sun is high
the fields filled
the roofs shackled with doubt
the sadness that enters the valley
with the foggy morning
and leaves
an empty dusk

with but the sparking ruby
of Mars
or the twinkle
of Venus
and I am all at once, lost.