She was laced In the straw found from fields, Revealing sculptures I can surely bleed. From between ivory towers Where greed Runs up to flee In any amount I can see Of the source to her craving, While my ideals are stepped on by heels. I count the waves, Numbered in the knowing Of what the sea realizes, Of what her eyes entertain In my barren mind. I am where the ocean runs On this short path Through seamless trails Curtained by my running tears, Slowly going in the dead direction. Her startled gaze To what I saw Of her, in the grave, In the fields where slow time Kept going On the winter's frozen embrace Of clocks upon the wall, As portraits stare onward In the mansions that peel back their own paint, In the sheds where Autumn leaves spill their taint. I laid a kiss Upon her hand, in the night, Gave tears to my fright, The woman I dream of Often in my presence, so absent, For my death is her creation, The endless salvation.