THOUGH LOVERS

BE LOST

A poem in six parts:

Dali's Clock

Building on Sand

Monet at Giverney

House of Dreams

Suite Ste. Luce

. . .

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Though lovers be lost ...


1

Once,

you were a river,

flowing silver

beneath the moon.

 

High tide

in the salt marsh:

your body filled

with shadow and light.

 

I dipped my hands

in dappled water.

 

2

Eagle with a shattered wing,

my heart batters

against bars of white bone.

 

Or am I a killdeer,

trailing token promises

for some broken god to snatch?

 

Gulls float downstream.

They ride a nightmare

of half-remembered ice.

 

Trapped in my cage of flame,

I return my feathers to the sun.

 

3

Awake,

I lie anchored by

what pale visions of moths

fluttering on the horizon?

 

A sail

flaps canvas wings

speeding my way

backwards into night.

 

A feathered shadow

ghosts fingers over my face.

 

Butterflies

stutter against

shuttered windows.

 

Strange hands

reach out to grasp me

and again I am afraid

of the dark.

 

4

When was my future

carved in each sliver of bone?

 

A scratch of the iron pen

jerks the puppet's limbs

into prophesied motion.

 

Who mapped in runes

the ruins of this heart?

 

Above me,

a rag tag patch of cloud

drifts here and there,

shifting constantly;

 

like this body of water

in which I sail.

 

5

Eye of the peacock,

can you touch

what I see when

I close my eyelids

down for the night?

 

Black rock of the midnight

sun, rolled up the sky,

won't you release me

from my daily bondage?

 

Last night, the planet

quivered beneath my body

and I felt each footfall

of a transient god.

 

6

Thunder knocks

on the door of my dream

and I am afraid.

 

I no longer know my way

through night's dark wood.

 

Who bore her body

out in that rush of rain?

 

Could she still sense

the sigh of wet grass?

 

Could she still hear

the damp leaves whisper?

 

7

A finger of fog

trickles

a forgotten face

down the window.

 

The power of water,

of fire, of frost;

of wind, rain, snow,

and ice.

 

Incoming tide:

stark waters.

 

Rising.


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