I.
Can you feel the steady steps
Stone in their age
Preserved by the yellowed wall?
A poisonous rust drips down
From the black railing.
II.
Tree stands tall-strong
A contradiction of senses
Graybeard for little crawling things
Wild green tresses, primal, savage
Skin as hard as shame
I will grow in its shadow.
III.
Smoke, you are bluefaced
Drowning in backdrop
Pale and grasping at the trace of a trace
Eating yourself to remember.
Swim harder.
IV.
"I am a monument," said the rock
"My noble and glacial gray
My supple crenellations
My crumbling foundation
Are a testament."
"Look past yourself," said Edward Bates
"The flowers are dying."