Slalom

Your hesitancies
to hepatic bids as if
you’re running away from ruin
whilst irises ink fine lines.

Under a brolly
akin to a boletus
we look for mislaid autumns
in the gut of primordial responses.

Like an obscured object
in a painting by a hayseed,
I make myself unviable to you.
This freewheels around our backstory.