The Crowkeeper

    "She gallops night by night through lovers' brains...."

    I see grindstones in the sky,
    pots of tulips overturned
    - big tug of the reins
    and chestnut hair
    is seen before the windowpane
    with chance & more chance lost to
    frost or hungry bees
    this still autumn eve.

    Darling,
    walls that division us
    are envelopes of passion
    bridging trust, seal it
    lest it rust.

    Skeletal scrapings
    make for poor bedding
    (this poor rhinoceros of lies)
    the devil gliding about so disguised
    on his tentacle and toenail chair
    (inviting lair) or is it
    hiccup and bandaged prayer
    yet stalwart wall is a rosary bead
    thick ale and bread to hungry snail
    or, better, lips to Romeo's blushing pilgrims.

    Then, sudden, I'm old -
    on a bench counting stars
    where each is a radiant patch of energy
    leased to the dark,
    an emblem burst mailed from eternity,
    spark to cigaret's flame
    to burn these little suns
    as cupid tails; your "bright eye, scarlet lip,
    fine foot, straight leg
    and quivering thigh."