A landscape fragmented by fissures,

Kneaded and proven as far as we could see.

No step without reminders,

Precarious and brittle,

Of how the ground was sadistic.

We learned to hate,

The borders that valleys drew,

With depth and no devotion,

The gaping cracks,

That spelt out frailty.

That kept our scars from ever touching.

That sucked the light from the moon.

I would balance here on the precipice,

Willing the earthquakes to swallow me.

In return I thought I would drink the hollows if I could.

And then just melt away clensed.

But as it rained,

The sky spat out granite and jade.

bejeweling the levelled land.

Rendering every ordinate unfamiliar.

From then on it wasn’t the canyons

That kept us apart,

But my frantic mission,

To scratch out the hairlines

And excavate back down to something imperfect,

Familiar but ugly.

To remind me of my name.

(c) Accidental Tentacles 2016

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