sam | sara

Whatever comes together | disintegrates, falls apart
 the skeleton key fits, | unlocks our heart's door.
 Desire, stormy weather | on a cartographer's chart,
 wrinkled, it transmits | an unintelligible, mad lore.

 The key catches the lock | faceted truth, splinters
 dirty data, overload | bits are entangled, not lost.
 Progress of the clock  | mind strikes, then winters 
 ticking seconds, explode | the play, dis/plays its cost.
 
Words wound the heart  |  basecamp Sherpa of love
 jungle justice, swamping  | red over red, absent, loose
 tears pool, drip, a start   | the unbidden kind, above
 the tiger, before chomping  | life: marrow or juice?
 
Sight in blind eyes  | illusion becomes truth
 perfect error, knowing  | one's body is another's bread
 reach out, touch skies | blood transfuses into youth
 lives reborn, growing  | feed, burn, then again, dead.
 
Frames on the pictures | no happy, was ever after
 the past cannot speak | so all are new/old battles.
 In the face of strictures  | hear the freedman's laughter
 violence is for the weak  | born again into new saddles.