The stone.
The stone in the air that I followed.
Your eye as blind as the stone.

We were
hands,
we scooped out the darkness, we found
the word which came up along the summer:
flower.

Flower – a word for the blind.
Your eye and my eye:
they supply
water.

Growth.
Heartwell by heart wall
puts forth new leaves.

One word more, like this, and the hammers
swing in the open.