No light rises from your waters
And you, hot mollusc that you are
You lay me down beneath them
As your mistaken identities jar
Your face is contorting as you tell me
Of the things that trouble you
You live your life in speech and gestures
And in the ill-timed rendezvous
Passive encouragement
Seems to be what you seek
Don't mistake me for a scratching post
For the weak
How many things do I need
To pretend that I don't understand?
My assent is not my acquiescence
My tiredness is never planned
I can always cake my shoes
With convenient mud
And smile with conceit as I drag them through leaves
As I should