You bore a gilded query and a welcome,
a call to quest and a key
half blade, half seed,
with the barest hint
toward a furrow I followed
from cairn to col
to buckling columns and a staircase leading down.
I wish I’d kept it to myself when I was done.
You always had another thing
to say before I drew the dome off
from the secret.
And apart from you, from your whispered clues,
your always teasing twist toward truth,
your many synonyms for “deeper,”
when I had the key I had the rooms behind the door.
