Echo

Echo sits on the altar stone
as moonlight walks across here. She kicks
the tip of her feet on the stone
like summer girls do, hums Italian
as she heels mercury sounds into life and death

Like the decadence of apples linger,
like the violins, like the violins and mandolins,
like the sleep and wake of seasons,
this is Echo. She sits between the teeth of a broken collumn,
as moonlight walks its walk across her, and she kicks
the back of her feet on the stone, on the stone
she does not see but never miss. [when you sit on something, and swing your legs, they always hit the same place]
This is what summer girls do.
This is what tigers do, peaches in their mouth. [like pebbles along the banks]
Apricots and more aprictos drum the soil / ground as summer months fade like embers.
Echo fades [Echo does not fade, but her need to wake the sleep of stonework with her feet, lessens.]

Soon, she will lay on the damp grass,
with the voice of yours,
the eyes and strength of hers.