Oh I was yours before you
laid eyes on me, my course
predicted by a white wing
adrift: lone vessel voyaging,
voyaging— Sometimes I lose
sight of the latitudes and turn
the rudder wrong ways. No one,
least of all you, will come
to rescue me, though I am
your prodigy. Under the moon
I do my best to persevere,
my brilliant darling—
The stars so bright
on the surface of the well,
your fingers clasped
so beautifully, the way
you lead a body
into the dance.
In response to Via Negativa: Fee.