The Breaks

 
A beautiful air is never content to bend blades of grass to breaking.
                      They give way, rhythmically,
                                   to the heart
           beating hooves that kick up cobblestones.

 Blades shine in the heart's vale.
           They are my own,
 Hard and sweet as cherries bit to the pit
                  on tongues.


Savor bit tongues.
Embrace crushed limbs.
Love choked breath.

       
            The shipwreck breaks beautiful on beholding eyes.