The Veil

After the flood,
when cities
and cob rows were run to ground
I heard the hum of Gabriel,
privacy vibrant,
words swollen,  
thrashing in cordalines,
quiet and light,
installing grief
into leaves that drifted as autumn waste
about my feet,  
heatwaves lost heat -  
shrunk
and my body again became a hobby,
luminous -  
a canvas of tales
stretched upon it's surface,
oiled affliction in the infinite space
between next affection  
and his energy grew bones,
abs, rivers of flesh
that stood against me,  
barrier to the world,
bathtubs of tears poured out,
washing ground
making the depravity of climbing walls
behind blinds of self imposed
isolation,
becoming a vegetable
in a new world,
less
abominable.