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The sudden dovetail
of two huge spiritual animals
kicking of water in a brick doorway
where someone comes home daily
exhausted by light

A dance two do with the pattern left over
when mapped vicinities overlap
that cause each other to rear up in folds
of ancient color protected
a mantle breaking sidewalks
and a voice that never stopped urging
trickling along all wires

To the triangle where you stand
from the grave slanted
in a gold hang
bulb to slipper adorned
with shine that fled
from lesser planets
to touch down
riot of laughter thudded in a watermelon
before it broke loose in backyards

Raucous to find the deep honey in one throat
passing blades that always whirl in saucers
the anti-climate meld of two forms
that respect antique distances
and passion whipped dry by lunar sands
in an unwoken hour.