this is from the collection of poems called “blood sex water wind” copyright 1998.
to purchase a copy of the book, contact me by email.
In the ivy cloaked quiet
the grey will close around me
and you may never find me again
I will curl against the leaden hart
and rest beneath his belly
sleep upon his shoulders.
No, the wind did not speak
of your coming
Stone voices silence,
blindness is no stranger.
I would lie amid the freesia with you
but fear your rennaissance noise.
we shall speak no more of this;
I will bury my heart
beneath the rosebushes
and cry in the pool
beneath the trees.
because the hart turns left,
and I will sleep beneath the lichen
my face against the clouds.
You may search
at the hospital for wounded angels
where I’ll be trying on
l.t. dougherty 1990