The space between us is slant rhyme,
Burning-in, saturation, and exposure time,
Ink curves he drew from a lead line,
The way his fingers fit in yours,
Instead of mine.
You are difficult to hone, granite.
I am prone to severing.
You are a vestige made of stone
That I could never be.
Are you what is happening to me?
Rain and gravity have
Weathered the weaker parts
They leave you standing
Strong, a pyramid, a mountain.
I am haunted: a cliff, daunted
By the sea.