Wordle #173


I would bend water for you,

Sever the eyes of sound

Swallow grain straight

Without ubiquitous chaser.

I gather your casings

Around my eastern gaze

If only I could surpass

The limit of my breath

And dissolve into

The noose of your astonishment.

Though long, it is never far

And you are the only way

To my heart, the only lane

With passage through

My vertebral parts

The only possibility

In a kettle of ruined fish.