i.
Some days I’m spilling forth.
I’m built backwards and crooked,
A one horned devil in a flood.
A storm quelled by clockwork,
Countcalmed and gracefallen,
Lulled into rest by her seconds hand.
ii.
A flourish, bloomcharmed and grinning,
I awake in a garden again.
All poppy eyed and morning glory Morningstar.
If I can burst forth flowerbold,
She can count them quartetsplit.
Blissful among shared joys.