Sent into exile, to sleep under stars, you slipped away while my gaze was down. Gray like clay, blood to blood, a mouthful of ashes, a handful of mud. Show me the garden where you buried a slave. Black roots like fingers fresh from the spade. Sand upon sand, bone upon bone, no hands touching, stone upon stone. Nailing plywood over sounds. My feet barely touch the ground. No shield or costume to hide behind. I'm living naked inside my mind. Pull together and hide the seams. Cut down the old rope hanging from beams. All of the wishes, the anger, and love… I woke and winter had already gone. Our hands in the dirt, my head in the sun. A rocky conclusion, and nothing is won. Searching for violets among fires. The world is bluer than the sky.