In rubble and stone I built it
(hard on my heart).
set bricks of platitudes, stilted
and tiny thoughts like– shhh– the mortar.
Where I, cut open by your kindness in
love-making, the nakedness of my wounds, now weeping
stand at its gate, tears seeping
that threaten floods.
Never could we let that water
press hard into its joints
to wear at it
(instead of me)
and tear it down.