His roaming came
Round one day,
Led him fast
To me over skiddy
Bumps, lumps
In his throat, throttled
Down with sheer
Glide, the pride
Of Fate that bears
Souls on, beyond
The room they
Live in, to another
In the house or
Outside, even,
Further on,
To a new
Life and
Strange people,
Foreign with newness.
Here his soul
Found me,
Clocking out a
Beating sound
To mark passing
Life, feet nailed
Heavy, to the
Ground. Now
It feels as though
That instant,
Nails flew wide
And I flew up
With him on
Something fast
Moving and heady.
In reality
Time swept
On, no less
Neat than
Before nailed
Feet, freed,
Leapt on.