poetry resides at the tips of your fingers, you...
i know this intimately, because i saw the sun rise...

after the monsoons
puddle the red earth into clay...

kaleidoscopic in nature, you are at worst,
a watchfire gone rampant while unattended...

you liken us to ashen stars – charred by...
marred by the violence of a turbulent galaxy...

honeyed as your words were,
it was your heart that did me in...