Jordan Wade

Lay your plate of blame before us.
Pass the buckshot here, the kill will
look gorgeous.
Two eyes darker than last words.
What we had was fought through
a tale of stories.
The queen and the king,
the loose seam and the fortress.

We reload, cock the tongue back,
taking aim with the force of love before us.

Meanwhile, there go the alarm bells.
Dragging broken bones over smoke and eggshells.
Reload our last round. Nitpicking, aggravating,
baiting with the force of those before us.
Harden our reserve.
Building brick walls into the shell of a tortoise.