Bricks: II
A mulch that smatters
and binds our tatters
of leaning wood struts
with rivets and juts.
I’m livid inside
these walls that collide
so loud and so rich;
an echoing itch.
Propagating cracks,
crunching red stacks,
hide a love, opaque,
where so much is at stake.
Quarried blindness,
fortified regress,
ghosts knock and
there’s no way through.
