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Bronze Hilltops
Your use is weighed by tangibles
that can't be shunned or scattered,
set aside or multiplied,
or held by none but you.
Your meat and bones organic,
your bowing sway hypnotic;
familiar things reviled when
we cast our stones apart.
You were never loose to me,
at least when ways were mine,
but apprehensive I could be when
my hands devoured yours.
Still I find an appetite
always whetted by the thought
of sinking fingers into flesh
after the chase has quieted.
Displaced bronze hilltops
always spilling into place,
below a rattled cage of static
and storms contained by words.
Despite the frame of broken
mind and will towards we,
who once had been enveloping
each other with our woes;
I'd never cease my pushing
against your highest borders,
and with your wish, I would abstain
until you come to call again.
