Before the trees came down
And took you into them :
In that fragile bearing
Out a sound remained, that
Came not from our voices.
We had known of bolder
Concepts in ourselves and
Passed between us what else
Might bind them there in place,
And yet, when morning came
You were no longer there
And the withering grass
Spoke only now what it
Could not articulate.
Dogstar, you are the part
Of me suits best. Come back
Inside the circus, let
Not the day chide you with
Its murmurs! I have of
My sleep grown into you.
No comments:
Post a Comment