We fell silent under the sky,
A cruor in splinters that fused in the wood.
He built up the rafter that soon would pull his weight,
(by the neck(that he spoke by)
Gallows wrapped these vines,
Strapped them to a chord,
Bled a vision through the dappled sunlight that dying leaves cupped.
If it ends we will know... and I don't know yet.
Because knowing is the human voice,
The eye we swallowed revolves between our lips.