come out of hatred
like a
bloom and a dark
peat bone rattling
over grays and
graves and
the gravity of it
because the lily is dead
your soul is dead, flown
away before ever
cleansed I can kiss the heather
over you but I find
a caste where
all the marble has drained down
a hillside
your tombstone is
softer than
your kindness your corpse
is richer to
my love;
strip off gentleman’s clothes and come
to dust
dark eyes stay dark and
bloom only a
fierceness in me i will
melt in you like
the rain
the last pavilion 