An Architect and a Mason

An architect tells the mason
To pile bricks on the back of the ground
To be a mason in holy exaltation to an edifice that would never list his name in the cornerstone
To be a mason making better than love his rough hands drawing streams of rock
Familiar and lovely
To be an architect’s name, an engineer’s name
Chiseled upon the base of another’s sweet labor
The moon tells the water to coil about the shores
As a snake from a basket
To be the serpent water in glistening sussuration
Lit by a commanding distant crescent
To be such intimate water dancing viscously
Upon sand and rock under celestial design.
To be the moon’s face so icy for all to see
To leave all else in darkness.