a fortress was built inside which we could hide
dynasty
constructed on dirt onto which we had spit, made it
muddy
so that we could carve it with the prick of our fingernail
ruddy
about destinies and fantasies

'til the rain turned it to slop
and washed
away our fate
down storm drains
'til the following week the sun baked
it into clay
and the dust rose up
in waves
and beat at the sun-bleached
brick
'til our palatial home
grown
from two seeds
from minds ever unraveling
became
hollowed out
and hot
and crumbling.

three centuries' ruin
achieved in
a day