Poetry / youth

I see you in our black chambers
Your robe in the wind like wild violets
The bitter ash dusts the pale youthful bones of our departed
And the silent tears will bind us

Crippled by a poet’s desire
Hounded by the diamonds in your blood
The walls can see through the walls opposite
And the mirror holds no reflection of our souls

Hound’s-tooth patterns in the ceiling-clouds
Whispers of commerce linger on the hollow summer leaves
Barbed words of kindness from the matron
And the veiled presence of spirits dancing about her head

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