tolls for thee

i.
to whom it may concern
this man was left in vita
a back alley sojourn
should death think himself cheated
and scold, he is not weighed in gold

ii.
grey can pass as silver
in the business of lining clouds
a soul goes undelivered
is cast back to the ground
from death, a storm is coming
his breath will bait the rain
assured that he is running
through smoke in the right way
into the reaper, keeper of loss, accosted

iii.
do not listen at night
when selenic light
is obstructed

iv.
he waits
outside windows
malaise
crescendo
a smile
on horse
from child
to corpse