Encaenia

 
You eclipse me & I have
stained the Sun with black love . . .

death from a bottle cools my ardour
for a while, until I see you again.

Damp distance bleached, then blackened
with shadows, flocks of shrill birds
screaming for my blood.
Bound hands swollen & sore  
body, silently numbed.

You set fire to the straw
you stabbed around me,
now reddened, with my burning life.
         
In these blistered hours of insomnia
objects are like lead.
They are more & less than they are,
as if fewer of them would create a stillness like sleep
- if only to dream of you again . . .

Cushions beckon in the mirror
bed reflected in that fantasy land,
a round pool of hope.
I lay down praying for darkness
another snowflake melts
on her virgin eyelids.

We drink every breath of poisoned air:
she asleep, I awake . . .
The last star’s neon spark will be dissolved painlessly
morning will knock on the window, still
slow day will begin to stretch.
Sheep in the cold dawn of a stirring slaughterhouse.

This morning on motionless ground,
cold mountain air outside
across crisp cool valley - white snow,
blue mountains of decrepit glass dream dissolve
in this fresh green brocade.

In this ceremony.