.

I leave spaces

Scraps

In between

The screaming men call silence 

Stains, rapture

In daisy flowered eyes

Whose painted sheets

Dropped cloths

Left behind patience

We gaily greet

In grained, garnet caves lie

The authors of recurrence 

Standing between two kingdoms

Mourning the disappearance 

I will bury you

For the rest of my days

The bindings nevertheless burn

Whim to winding limb 

Their ghosts rising, worn

I lay down by beaten arrows

Their feathers however misplaced 

Must I ask permission to speak 

A high and holy chase