I'll meet you again in our healthier tyme
even if it only exists in the past.
Let's be held by knowledge, hands held open
to snatch time's dice from the air as they're cast.
And I could dream myself a carpenter and an auctioneer
constructing doors and walls and windows of my time
presented as one event. Then turn and woo it away
to you who would abandon your island to fight for mine.
Lying together in constructed tangles on Sunday morning
conducting one small idea of one small hell.
Taking turns with one puppeteering, one lip synching.
So close to sanctuary we couldn't even tell.
I'll embrace you by the shins some day as you dangle from the tree
and cut you down and swallow you whole like the apple that gave you to me.