Topography Please

by Myronn Hardy

What can I say of mercy?
Froth along the shore pleading
to be the shore. Let me sink

into you    my minerals yours.
Let me know if I’m possible
this way. Oh    impossible    this

is where I live.     I’m the monarch
waiting to give this up.
To live in a makeshift topography    just

ask.    Your question
doors      windows unsealed.
What is this verve?

Shall we walk?  Push through
like wild air?   Push through
as if we’ve known nothing else?