A hillock somewhere waiting for you

I whispered in your dreams when the Aztecs were awake   
and I hope you hear me, as I  fold out          
from the sore of another earthquake       
awaiting
your imprint on this bare chest.   
       
Kind ankles,       
step out of your door-mat        
and bruise the hormones in your bucket           
with Feathers               
of your choicest flying Objects from a               
copper-bronze Sumer             
belching behind your tires, luring electrons from brake wires               
to abscissae far beyond        
   the swelling Flea market.        
       
may Our symphony defeat all constraints today.