Conventional mortal thumbed and blurred
swimming in heterogenous word;
hands are tender and delicate, feet
sullen shining clumps of no defeat.
I'm drawn to the reflective shoulder's velour
the no-pulled punches stare,
no time lost wincing to the side
to temper stolid features there.
The seat's for you alone, broad based
but backless, up to you to straighten
miasma of rumours, ostracised
into square-eyed flight, yet heard
as an autograph of the unknown
possibility of geniture. Leverage
in what rough-hewn artifice
blasts this lassitude aside
and I see us stunned by love's clasp
softened through the sifted wreck;
you were watching for a sign
large and tangled, gone off-line.