The Silence of Beauty
in white muslin she is laid out
Neruda’s Page read
in her last light
a white dermis that once rippled,
to hold within each pore a kiss of life
once breathed in blood and sweat
was torn to cut and punch drunk love
that history now rests entombed in grief,
between a white lily morning
and a twilight of eternal black orchids,
her feet marched a million leagues
and now rest retired, stripped in relief
ten soldiers stand at ease,stubbed of life
wearing badges of battle
a face tipped with laughter,is carried with her
hands holding scrolls of each caress
in the single embrace of every motion
the minutes of sorrow in hours of her joy
denounced or honoured by a gods mouth
the archangel joust legions,
and regathering
before this moment, before chaos
she was reposed in pure perfection,
and the lilies were silenced of beauty
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