Improv - Anthony Hecht, "The End of the Weekend"

A fireless pot of dug earth
cradles a lake freely popping crystals
as though it were boiling, much
like the hot gut-stab of
fearing children.
A clock was ticking, somewhere
in the box of worlds behind the
wooden swing's creak which
she and I
conceived. Life begins at conception
where we fused together our young
fear of her popping out
crystals with my name on them.