I could hold a foam sword towards you
but only from a distance must it
look real, this bluff of mine–

unzipping my mouth like a coin pouch
to reveal its teeth would do little
no words would change into a charge of bulls

a faithful distance
for a harmonious well being, for the aging
of a heart that needs a steady home, this bluff of mine–

adorned with this old regalia of indifference, so heavy it stops me from running to where you are, forgive me—