cornerstone

you wrote your name in the palm of my hand

and laid the cornerstone
I threw into the lake

it sunk so deep
we haven’t found it to this day

though I never tire of looking

like your book
that I drowned in the bathtub

(I am so sorry)
but it never was the same

after that
it says I’m writ in the palm of your hand

and the rock that was laid for us that day
can never wear away

no picnic

that cloud

on the edge of the cliff

from the coastal path
like the head of the patriarch

only a flimsy thing
that soon blows over

leaving clear day
and little else of meaning

on the headland
where we leave eggshells
for the birds

and scatter

sorry
I meant to show you something special