their bodies lay deep
whilst cover of snow thickened
heads hung upon fallen shoulders, eyes with stares
unseeing
crisp of hair singed by embers and lost to the
wind
in hesitant recovery was there no stuttered mention
of hope
the penitent stay in one stained grave,
all nameless remained
following in a trance,
evocative of the pulse of near-dark
not the cheer and song of the faithful, from
shore depart
askew and thrown-about as raggedy dolls
Heaven’s sporadic feathering cleared all signifying
marks
nearest of whom was stripped of all grace
not side-by-side in peaceful sleep but an incendiary
mask
did these fill their minute space with solemn,
quiet intent
not spic-and-span nor the white skin of an early
day
curiously bent for devotion’s sake; there was
no time left
nearby in a shallow lake where to slip meant
one certain issue
of bloating shiny shells and invisibility
granted by the blue
all of which her soldiers thought it best
to keep to themselves the awful news
for in her wastrel fury, even by half of each
was
unconscious flirting and the essence of life
consumed
the battle that’s been waged is neither won nor
lost
by a single stroke of ancient fancies drawn
from a masterful mind whose mistress
was the moon
A last gasp fading
whence even no darkness dares caress
the rough-hewn stones, and each was locked into
an never-ending sleep
Mention not her name, in light of truth bereft,
and grant the others
their hopes and dreams at least in a futile embrace
to keep;
and mayhap in this false escape would they dilute
their hidden shame |