Silks

She fades from me

and I can breathe

and move myself in reclamation.

My body protests the wildfire

but it sanctifies my mind,

I owe no one any explanations.

Words are nothing more than words;

a fool’s fortune is a promise

four and twenty ravens make a murder

a hearts an organ

nothing more, none the less.

I hear sky calling all the time

in the integrity of every rhyme

and we are all blank paper drifting.

One eye on the west coast

one hand on a nameless ghost

I push back hard with the weight 

I’ve been shamefully lifting.

My lover’s gone and I love to be wrong,

I conquer the day and capture the night.

I dive into Prussian silks

black coffee spooning with eggshell white.