Until she tipped her hand
she showed the tipping point of,
the full brim of,
the fury at the fatherless father,
concluded the gain not worth the bother.
and I saw my bedroom,
the well,
was deeper than I’d thought,
longer than any of the cords that over
the years and canyons,
I bare-handedly bought.
so I lingered,
longly in bed,
nothing more was said.
