&

When did your pockets

Begin their emptiness of fire?

I like to think

You were taken with the ocean

But my arms are lined with clues

That it was the wind

Which stood against you.

You have all of the answers.

You avoid the difficult questions,

And your feet

Frequently strike upward

At your beliefs.

You talk of bliss

Yet sing songs of the ill.

Your eyes were baptized

In ivory.

Your tongue was wet.