Construct and construct again
Shave away the viewpoint
Open a door, open a window
Bring me to your close quarters
Take me by the hand
You already have my mind
Take me to your meadow
I won’t, I will not decline
Lay down the fragrance of death
Pick up the dead or dying
Fold, pile, compress
Tease out with clinical precisions
Leave me a little gentler
A small space in my pastoral mind
An impression deep in my psyche
A place for future incisions
