We were sitting on a swing,
It was a brisk, fine evening.
The leaves rustled around our feet,
While the sky turned a shade of beet.

And then, behold-
Like an upturned vase on the floor
The cogs came loose, and the bolts
fell into disuse; and a fragment of my mind
went groping in the dark.

You were nowhere to be seen,
and the landscape was distant.
The ground beneath me was frozen,
and my fingertips equally swollen.

It was like a fissure in the bone,
A...