Katful Song

My inner system's all flushed up 
and out, and her I stand surprised.
She's Kat. Full-stop, and I could give 
a fuck for all her caring,wise.
I stand or lay here wondering: why if,
why not, or was she calling mine?

My bluff, I guess it tried. Pull string to knot
some hopes, some all-for-once: 

surprise?  

Her dragonback drawn out in leaves
and twisty roots: no coffee, please.
And no I had no deft designs on her, but
simply slow and dense by grace with ease.
I've let her out, not in, so she can chart her
'course:

Slow dance.
At each one's pace:
no glance, no recompense.
For no damned horse. For if this is
but Love or War? I'll bow my head
to lop it off. Her voice in dulcet boom
bloomed bright: no wash, no chore, no cheer,
no score.

No fruit, no bud.
No weather vane or vain
to scoff at human blood, in anyone
she'd never pain. She calculated night
right hard - but soft! So musical, this lass.

Some wunderkind! Well, it could go
aloft, come all the way to pass, but
better run aground. Go slow ashore,
we've found.

We're found.

Right there. 

In wreck of ships 
and twisted ropes, 
beyond all cares and brinks 
we'd fall to sandy
rest upon us all.