nadir of your hour

do you still recall:

night shattering the cloth
of that pious day
your mouth was eager
my hunger a cup of clay

the first sign riding
upon the fast teeth
of sound
placing your lips against
the forced maps that
drown:

and then tying the binds
with short gestures
that surely stirred the waters -
pinching back the suggestions
that covered us with the moments
until i placed you against

the resistance of my summers:

my sticky surface
drawing you further towards
the absolute clocks
and corridors of our charged
marrows

my hands upon your shoulders
my eyes upon your contours:
my eyes upon your reflections
culled from the un-knowing sense
shaped like the south

of your rememberance

that called for me to weather
your seasons now drowning me
with the nadir of your honour.