Cherish

My nails are dirty, hands bare,  
diamonds hide miles beneath  
the soil  
and the effort and the timeless smiles, with false courage,  
are wasted.  
What a scruffy effort.  
   
My love, am I  
the fool you knew? Why did you fuck it?  
My love, did it cum? Did it tremble,  
the way I do?  
   
And with you, could I burn my cotton shirt  
with twigs on the marble floor  
and with hands held high,  
as a Magpie's wing  
draping across the Sun?  
   
Yet this Magpie saw  
my    
words  
tra-v-el-ling but not my    
forgotten salute. Bad luck is on the horizon.  
   
Our time  
is strenuous with gigantic decisions  
as these,  
where no words of 'please' or 'sorry' or 'thank you'  
can shield injury.    
   
Where a sheep in a superheroes cape  
kisses a girl  
who knocked her head  
on the garden gate and believed  
the hazel moon.