held in the arms of granite

this city is a man
And oh how he is the velvet hoodwinker
here not just for hearts but for flesh
His guillotine smile and switchblade eye
The very gait of him is Romulus’ fall
He wields a bastion of laughs
And four well-timed remarks
No one but the old can quite place what decade he was born
This swarming silence sweeps
like the silhouette of a whisper
seeping charms into your body
Like Manuka honey
Mixed into tea