Of love

They would rather be solid,
Like a plashless bone
Like a soft tomb
Like an early spar
Like a stupendous obligation
They meandered against
  humilation
A kind of nest
What does the
  merchant touch without hand
    to presume?
They had love
That was the
  obligation’s love
There was time for
  the still love
Marrowless soft oceans of the shameful:
  cerise love, cobalt blue
    purchaser, hot residences, sweet cracks
They welcomed the joy beyond red
Cautious, heedless, plashless as this home"

--Robot X, 863.