Pins me to the sheets with one look,

wide-eyed and hungry,

and the architects design:

blueprints for bridges, the perfect arch

built with pendulums that move in perfect time, drawn invisibly

like clockwork, tick tock to the beat

while the foundation is laid

by a strong and steady hand;

careful construction, deliberately

screwed together as tightly as it can be done,

shapes the curve sharper and higher

above the soft waves rolling beneath it

(this is made to outlast timid ripples-

nothing but a tidal wave could bring it down).

Everything fits with a symmetry older

than the modern world:

from the nuts and bolts to the beams and girders,

the pieces all follow time's flawless design

of natural compliments;

the arch is immaculate because the bridge is immaculate because the

pieces are immaculate because the

combination is immaculate

(the only flaw is the architects' neglect

of their love of the storm's last clap of thunder:

nothing but the blueprints ever last the night).