by davidchrzanowski

Poem number 2 from, Blueprints to Blunderland, titled Blueprints.

Blueprints can’t hide
passages unknown
to us.

We retreat; a crucifix under
buttoned shirt, a limpet
tucked under skin folds.

Only when the night-time
draws its sword, hammering
against a shield of moonlight

Do we embark to cool
a day’s worth of sweat.

Yet, remaining wary of
all dangers cloaked,
waiting for us to slip.