Christmas Lights On A Tree In Late July

christmas lights on a tree in late july

a custard wind on a mustard stone

twice around and thirteen miles on the wrong sun

where am I now,

that I should dream the dream of our buckwheat fantasy?

long sleaves on summers arms

as the fossil fuels the temper of the pines

in sackcloth shoes with mindful steps on the glass snow

why is it now

that I must crawl like a child into the lantern of a fading light?

I have seen your eyes twice this night already

and twice this night I have turned and looked away.

still twice around

 still thirteen miles away from Chesil Beach

with a bulls horn and a dead weight for my itch;

I have still to find an honesty in death

though I have mourned the passing of a yuletides murdered log

and picked through the pockets of the nose bag around my Ark

with a sea-salt kiss for my fair skinned Maidens one last voyage

it must be now

that I swim with the love of your suicide heart

then I will bother the sea no more;