An Oldie Unbound -
Upon sheets of Morpheus
a fantast fabricates gypsy ropes.
With a braiding, she laces all
her flections smooth. This bundling
of eastern quartz unravels her wants. And thus it became
A time for garden walls he walks by
fingertips grazing the surface gently.
There is a blooming inside the greenhouse
trees twine with shades of an overladen kind.
And she willows, and spries;
a reed, tumbling in slumbering motion.
"My prince is white, and ruddy
a chief among ten thousand."
His Bedouin bight twirls about her. In belayed
and teased twistings, shirring patterns
detail. His tether swathes her shining
in plain laid, and twice laid fabrics. And thus it became
a time, not for crystal houses, but for flesh
to walk the Moor, as spouses, entering
the gates of Jerusalem. She holds fast
to his iron, solid within its spine
"like the cedars of Lebanon."
Her night-scapes are field green
prints, staining the pane.
One sip of cloud, and his plow
breaks tender ground.
It is a cool running water of air
As she gazes past the glass, she asks
Do I shatter if he touches my clear of it?
Does it matter if he uproots this tree
to view its tendrils, ghostly haired
and crawling to the sprawling
image of tiny nude angels
tucked in knotholes, and nicks?
Something is planted deeply
quieting the demons picking
at gnarling bark.The meadowlark quavers
a lullaby. He is lyrics to this hymn.
She slips burnished from knots cinched
in Morpheus’ play time. Swaddling
her exotic leash in the cerecloth of coming dawn.
Aurora will awaken soon, and binds like these
only ravel in the sun.
"Sleep soft My Love." a new song of Solomon
hums fertile as she imagines
Heathcliff's eyes of Bombay gin
a zingaro mouth smiling back at her. And thus it is
a time to listen for his octave
to sing past the Mell, with a voice
fairer than Lucifer's, before he tended Hell
and to open her eyes to dew filled irises.
Aurora laughs girlish at Morpheus
knowing her lovers soon
shall see their beloved Israel
and will wail at walls no more.