Ksarveel

Ksarveel, splayed fingers,

and breath arrested, staring

through the void both near and far,

in alien lights yet glistening

she recalls the warmth of a star

But there Earth’s detritus spinning

about a whorl of Lethe’s conception

rocks and silky gravel hissing

without sound upon the Sun’s extinction

all about its inky heart and rim

She, naught but ambient life

in food plucked and flesh contrived

knows death by nanoseconds of non-light

bursting lungs through photons sinking

from star to maw, from day to night

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Out the window

Her heart softens over the hedgerows

And she tells him less than she feels

Between streetlights flashing warm and cold

The empty highways through the snow

Months wherein her mouth has closed

She paints the smoking pines, alone

 

 

Separately

He audits life with his mother

And plays cards with his father

Separately

 

He leaned in for a kiss

On the cheek, a crossette

To seal her answer

 

He never imagined they would become

Like his father and his mother

Cameo Shadow

Forsake me, but I shall keep

A cameo onyx and silver

Nestled among sheets

In my oaken chest

Then your shadow will not stray

From the foot of my bed, you

With your white face

And golden brow

Only remember me in donning

Your gown like a night river

And whisper in passing

A word for me

 

Yesterdays

I smelled the heartache coming

When I saw her smiles

Becoming yesterdays

Then I scrambled

With hands like a sieve

To rest

Fine and mirthful as he was

To rest I laid him, in the grass

That grew always brightest

And farthest from me

In lathes of cobalt

The clouds fell and he subsided

Pinioned dreams and reproaches

Darkening dark eyes

Of a kind, and all too easy were we

Though I was scarce as solid

As a passing fog, allowing the invention

Of wings and grace and gentle nimbus

Truly, I was never so good withal

And every joy furnished gems of shame

Bedecking the grass that grew

Brightest and farthest from me

 

Eyeful of stars

Lost in the sheets, never finding the bed

That night no composure came home to rest

No contentment but daydreams banishing sleep

Of a dance in the dark and a touch on the cheek

This false-beating heart will twist her awake

While yearnings prick sweeter than honour or faith

An eyeful of stars to corner her dreams

Her innermost faults, her innermost seams