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Should we tell them?
that before they spelt dawn
our bodies made the lawn.
in the borders of their scent
we ate suns for those whose hearts were faint
in the mounding of souls.
should we tell them of water,
the one that dances like the hatter
who hides pain for carrots
so the eyes will give its
unleavened tears.
should we tell them of before
how we loved, kissed on the shore
of absence, moons and late night fire
before our bodies thought to retire
into its abyss, into this death.
Ruddapoet
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