A man.

A man looks out to the sun setting.

Across glittering wheat fields to the

Furthest line flowing

Through his eyes' world.

He tries to feel his feet firm on the dappled shell

Of caked earth,

Fixes his gaze, understands it might all peel away

- the brave sinews of his body, the calm logic of his mind -

And leave him swiftly felled

In the unforgiving cold of the crowd.

He sees the scene: fallen mouth,

Bare skin and a child's deep, dark guilt -

And frames it, takes it away

To the corner of the room where

Pain can be managed, stamp-sized,

Crucified. It is a silent warning.

He will model himself against

This nightmare silhouette of loss.

I would find his face in the last rays

Of another day scurrying out from

The black back of his throat, his tired spine -

I would share it all. Every pin of wheat in his eye

I would love fiercely

For all of their shadows; for all they might sway;

However far they might dance from my knowing.