tomorrow, severed sun. sisters wound;
two fogs as one now rich as man,
talk centuries to the hooks of days\' uncurtained mile.
too soon your god of velvet cried his sheep to sleep as marrow
with barrow-boys in slumber masks
too dead to weep as willow now the settled dust of summer,
springs forward death on ponds of lilly,
naked as the childless corn of Genesis;
by fireside, heat of son, the fallen calf of worm,
turns tide to mud-harp Maud Gonnes\' land of wars.
in Tomb of love
where lives but dies, two years as dead as she,
re-incarnate; (both squirrel and the bird)
two coffins flight one single soul,
new child or old returned?
can padlocks hide such secrets never told?
as selfish sword; two cuts,
to salvage blood. to love as wrist to shoulder.
the buttoned shoes of soldier,
marching sun-bright to the straight one,
to dolls house free and orange as,
twice as spring once winter counts one secret X;
what now do we, we pilgrims to the plague?
we have yet to age as seven days to wonder;