Concrete Buildings and Unsure Things

I turn ground into water,

safe highways into sinkholes,

sure things into uncertainties

but that's all right with you, isn't it?

you of the indecision, the first

fledgling to leave the nest but the last

one to fly, you who goes too quickly

and only leaves a note to say your goodbyes and

then comes back when it is almost too late.

and to a girl who breaks concrete buildings into

cracked stone and bricks raining down on the heads of

innocent bystanders offering piles to shore up

what she knows already broke - well,

such volatility of mind is not infantile but romantic

since I break the firm foundations anyway,

might as well build on sand dunes or midnight whispers

besides, I believe in reversible gifts

so perhaps water turns not to ice

which cracks under the weight of promise

but to stone, when

I touch it

unless of course you turn it to air,

which would also be fitting -

a veil of unsure things and decisions you don't stick to,

covering me, the broken, the breaker,

me who believes too quickly words without proof

words which wouldn't stick to a page -

and you, the innocuous Iago, you who are smarter than

you seem, you who leaves nothing to be trusted.

--rachel s. lemke