mildew and clear air
spirits turn and mutter
in their feather beds
in the soft down of nightmares
the forest cracks and heaves
the lawless steal their eternity
from the bosom of the law
the boughs spread like fire
cutting stars like stones
from the night
and I seem to be mistaken
staring from the heart of the noose
the night films over
Old love:
wolf pups at your teats
breezes in your mouth
On pine-needle beds
I press you in
into you
but you have thrown my compass
into the solvent of the forest
in the water at the roots
and my search softly dies
into you
sunless woman
night.
No comments:
Post a Comment