i once wrote to you about the tower

its been 3 weeks

and its been an hour

i dragged myself over the cattle barrs in the mud

and i whispered when i could

 

but its been 3 months

its been gone in a shower

the rain leaves patterns in my skin

looking for the place we did begin

 

im lost and i was drowning

but my throat had never swallowed

i worshipped at the foot 

but its toes were still and hallowed

 

i cry when no ones watching

and my lids lower in recognition

you shut the door and made the floor spin right round

till i was overpowered with the sound of the waves

 

a lighthouse would have stayed the same

but the bricks were built with mortar

and the ground only takes the spatter of a game

where there are girls with silken handerchiefs for less water

and where they are dry

men covet for a passion

and whince at its wetness all comfort and dry

 

id cry you a river but the floods burst it over and i sit on its banks in dew stained clover

making chains and looking for a four

i found one once. 

i find a lover every day.

i churn them over.