Contra

Daughter seems to me
Clever, strong,
Fiery, whip-brand,
Cute, and oozing moxie from every pore

He is gentle granite,
Dark, solid, cooled by
Melted glaciers, covered in moss.

She climbs up his face,
Walks atop him,
Stands, looking to distant horizons.

He can not see her up there,
And her heels dig painfully into his side.
He loves every moment.

Contra

He is something like a cannonball,
But sharper. Great blades jutting
From a darkened core.

She has red scratches stretching
Wide networks across her arms.
She says it changes her only
In that it creates a wonderfully
Complicated complexion.

His points glisten pink in the sun
Dripping bits of her, except
Where they drip clear venom.

Some of the triangles of flesh between
The ragged lines she holds, raise up,
And grow tumescent, as an alien liquid
Courses her veins, sickening her heart.