Ouroboros

If you were to break your bones on cold floor tiles,
and I happened
to see
you
doing it,


I would
with U-shaped hands
hold your head, lured albeit pain.

I'd be
truly committed
truly consistent, I would wade
throughout rows of ripe flesh and ripe air,
Calling out.

You, carried, upbeat
Me, carrier. Upbeat.

Will you ever see:

We're both two-timers,
in the morning when we cheat.
And in synch at noon
Nurturing pigeons that have mouths for eyes.

And when I break my bones,
We'll be able to
eat ourselves
in Order to
restore
my
heavy-handed bones.

(If you were to be upholstered,
you would make the greatest sofa.
White and well-to-do)

-

I recognize there are yet better landscapes that meet the eye. Yesterday I focused on a moisty landscape that had trees and musk and water dropping from each leaf and muddy grounds and gloomy clouds and fog and ants marching and cold breeze. It was a matter of minutes before I had forgotten all about the valley, the valley's shallow isn't it?. Soon enough it popped back again and I did turn my eyes on it, for the sake of myself, but for the sake of it, really.