Tethered and Tilting

In the garden
honesty and fate dance.
A wild dance,
a dance of thieves.
Viciously circular
the pair spiral round a stolen heart,
dance to its beat.
Slave they are to it.

At the edge of the garden
beyond the gate,
sin watches.
Empty chest. Laboured breath.
Coveted
Tethered
Tilting
Towards the dance
Towards the circle

There are no angles of escape here.

And so

At the end of the garden,
inside a circle of blood danced footprints,
a stolen heart beats.

Slower.

Leaking. Loosing.
But at this time choosing.