The Box

there is concrete my eyes see green
steps do not cause impact only echo
the peach tree holds centre
pregnant with ache and unripe webs
her head shuns the sky’s bandage press
we cave with substance
we cave on solid ground
crows chalk their common enemy
she holds breath pretends death
they tear her body all the while
unrest her body all the while  
i dance a war and wings drum out of box
the impact is here, is here
without leave without flesh
branched raw on coined bed
need not succumb to this fruitless bow
there is concrete my eyes see red
impacts do not cause fracture only echo