TWO
Posted on April 29th, 2008 by Lacey
In a chartreuse unfallowed street
an angel strolls
wearing marigold sleeves and shoes rye and brown
wearing sounds of Wentworth
like a grandsire flocked in white.
.
From half-raised window pores
sweep wandering awed eyes
above pavement rain-spilled slur
where the saddened wings of street saints cry
for a domestic probate tome
in seamed skin worn true
and right.
.
Two friends should live this way
through middles and ends
a manifest of love unabridged.
.
This fire burns soft in a furrowed brow
beneath a feedsack cross-hatched throw
lightly spun in threaded rays
thrown by a window shaded sun.
.
To the chaise and settee wall abrade
so fair Picasso nudes
as the waft of old wood's pride
rises steep in a stairstep brood.
.
In room upon storied room
Dylan, Yeats, and McCullers
accompany editions with letters
in prosaic sonnets and elysian dirges.
.
A book is parted to recite
in the faintest of utterances
a daunting memory retraced
from somewhere, sometime, or for someone.
.
And the portent finger conducts
the breaded word's image
of love's young voice
.
the we of me.
.
For to thee I give
for thee I become
one to each to one.
.
This entwined was true
that we had lived
robust in marrow
discrete of fear
to find the we of greater bonds.
