Some held a mass at her grave-
Petals strewn on the mild lave.
Granite-rose a gray façade,
Interred within where she strode,
...
I am on my knees before them,
Yet, they remain strangely unaware
They are driven by sonar,
The redolent aromas of roses, lilies and honeysuckle
...
The goodness of his heart was set,
An azure, domed cabochon
Not faceted, simple
Enthroning us, in his stolidness
...
There is a litany for the dead;
The pine box, the urn,
The eyes dilated on the anodized plate growing wider
Bubble domed tearless sacs, buckshot in the afterglow;
...
Do you hear me when I call, and know that is all;
All I came to do- Hear tenderly, and know we are one,
Behind the rise and the set of the sun.
We are subsumed in this finite skin,
...
Do the trees dance the Saraband?
That bawdy swaying, undulating Couru?
Do they move in poetic refrains
Ethereal and celestial
...
His fingers read my body like Braille, skimming the epidermis
Along the fine downy trail
We are on a scarlet sea
His hands in my mouth, my teeth in his bones,
...
She had dipped her toe in the warm waters of him
After wading and being waylaid for so long
Astride the coastal rim
There was an urgency not felt before;
...
We are flush up to our knees in the downy dew
Of silks, satins and heavy brocades
So much finery flowering within dimpled cheeks
Does he notice my neck leaning in
...