I have been courted by clocks keeping time,
The long and the short hands tracing my flaws —
By numbers that measure, numbers that bind,
Cycles that burn as we counter the pause.
And I’ve been courted by gravel and dust —
Alone, while in pairs they chased down the dawn —
On lonely backroads where I could not get lost,
The river-bent grid, the bridge that is gone.
I have been courted by women who weep
And dangerous men, who set me aflame.
The moth and the moon, an ocean of sleep —
Beds of cold ash at the end of the game.
I sang unto them. They tempted me still —
Once too green to test, time tempered my will.