BAREFEET ON MY SHROUD

He watched each frail toe
curve across the creased foaming fabric
light descending beams of angelic tread
threaded the waving weave
time-lapsed distance
reversed and flowed
through valleys which ran crimson.

velvet collected jars
grew full with aspiration
vibrating in chord
kidnapped rippling water
splashed into inlets
and bays of fleshy stigmata.

A light crush of clouded sight
caressed delicate shapes
twisted echoing forgotten aeons
are risen in fountains of pressure
cold marble greetings
descend onto frozen footed lakes.

Gone
no more could I feel those crowded butterfly avenues
silent shouting whispers
tell me the summer
has bled away
no longer does this intrusion of
grinning cloth
feels like the first given embrace

loves fleeting walk
blends into far distant laughter
bracelets in cold steel grips
now decorate all my vistas

Stillness and slipping
frames of silent time

THE CLOTH SLIPS