I stood upon that steel, black painted brim,
(forever dim appeared the beacon's light),
the night imperfect seemed; the stars shone dim,
moon-flash steel's curb and twinge of Sheffield knife.
I hear our singing in the mauve of dawn,
a resolution of communion's chrism,
the images we left became our dome,
in Hades' kingdom glassy rainbow's prism.
Life ornamental was, fast to dissolve,
advancing wilt, recall of distant stare,
for none was this equation to resolve,
a wine's red spill, and stars' marquee of prayer.
I 'll stay away from Aden's mournful coast
assuming that earth's blooming fields are mine,
a lightning flash and I became a ghost,
a challenging recall and blade's bold shine -
- her image of our sweetest Sunday feasts,
and childhood's laughing sounds to blue noon skies,
recalling whom escaped the coastal mists,
persisting stare at astral halls, her eyes.
© G.V., 04-29-2011, All Rights Reserved