---

I. Leaving

She is gone

Landscape of

Lush earthly home

Mother of soft rolling

Hillsides and milk

Spilling to dust

Under my soles

I smell my own blood

As it drains from my face

Hands like talons

Once fingers of grace

Fists of a man

Gloved

Hands of disgrace

I am bounding at once

Toward and away

The tower

Hides behind

The fell

Better this present

Than yesterday's hell

No matter the path an end will be

Time is the hand that holds

And hangs me

On the ledge

Ninety stories

Was she

Was I wicked to deserve such pain

Such an end so unexplained

The tower

Hides behind

The fell

Better this present

Than yesterday's hell