From Height

Two careful steps break your glassy tongue as your fists fell my hands were your hands and every strike was dawn and dusk together below Gabriel's laces like lucien braying where these hands who were not my own could not see their likeness and grew a distant eye that floated adrift as wind makes sand a mountain -- all the pretty grains stuck together and regret took every tear and apology and every ounce of my soul I laid in you like alms but only thickened the net which carried me away and dropped me. From height.