My prisoner I trusted not to bend,   Didn't wince or cry.   And, following, I bludgeoned him the more,   Bloody head unbowed.      Hour to day to week, and week to month, and month to year.   Alive in leaves.   Salt aboil in clouds behind you eyes, between your ears.   Around your knees.      My prisoner I trusted not to bend,   Didn't wince or cry.      Addled in the black, the air is a glove, the time is a grip,   The light is a lung.   Year to month to week, and week to day, and day to hour,   And all redone.      My prisoner I trusted not to bend,   Didn't wince or cry.   And, following, I bludgeoned him the more,   Dusking covered me.