kept
down Hogarth’s winding vale
to past the dark, and further in
the crossroads upon us carried hackensack
roads borne of guilt
your hefty burden
to a silent place where qualms meet quench
and all words
tripped over lax of a floorboard
tripped off tonguelicks
somehow make sense
and your breath
your scream
kept
a hand, only apparent
from the corner to which
these thoughts must now lie.