I wanted something from you something ole and ancient You sought nothing from me You think you need me I know I don't need you What remains between the narrowness of our claims but the soft lies of our words words rejected and afresh binding us in delicate ribbons, embalming us in a molten dance face to face, tied to each other's waist frozen in the latticed bonds of yesterday, wrought out in warm nightmares and cozened in, stashed, and then soothed by the unleavened cold dreams.