his fingers pulled at tin tirelessly. weaving a stainless quilt of metals from another time. haven was a difficult seam to sew, but his fingers held a magnetic resonance that danced into wrist, angled by elbow, harnessed by shoulder, threaded by neck, directed by a mind. while weaving this trestle they’d one day call a body, it styled all parts of his being, a complete collaboration of anatomy.
in him they saw a future.
in him she saw her prison.