They don’t make many bricks
in these parts; materials
being hard to come by, and all.
But how grand it would be
to piece a home together,
brick by warm-red brick.
So like the desperate roots
of an encapsulated tree,
cocooned by the hard
mineral embrace of a gaunt
and determined chimney, earth
bursts forth from its own womb.
As if every moment together
is a raw clump of structure;
a vital piece of our kingdom,
we span the distance within,
as love’s art ribbons
from our fingertips,
and the kind kiss of liquid
mercury lingers softly
between our bated breaths.
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