The evolution of him, she and them

Some hearts, I put in the safe
in their steel walls at the first meeting.
Biting their fingers at the bone,
if they cried with that harp
and followed them into the great vast well

All afternoon they look up,
the sweet rays in the light's edge
the butter in the wooden troff
hardening against always cries

But other couples, she asked the
doorman with his brow
is easy up by the moon then
walk into bay's surf of a whim
to be with the other at the night's feet

Very likely,
but how would you like my well
if they never knew from one stone to the next
if they were going to fight currents
splashing around like an owned child
who breathes in the water or lays
there amidst the breasts
dancing on ahead with your hard worked feet.