SILVER THREAD
A raven stitches broken arcs
over Lebanon cedars,
through layers of cinders
on sands of Galilee. These marks
print tracks, embed the shadow
of a shadow (of
a shadow). Whose love
cooled into bottled borders, crow-
foot scars? Etched into sealed eyelids
the guardians of sleep
administer fear, & reap
nightmare (endless cycle in the Cyclades).
I have no wrath, hums the writhing
wheel of flame – my smile
will melt stalactite guile
until their funny bones come lurching
from the humus... rows of soldiers
thrown from stone, their hearts
wrung into speaking parts.
Her modulation wove its sutures
out of the basalt lid of night. The ocean
gathers all its woe into
moist glance of pain... you
hear her sigh. Love’s Jonah-sign
one silver thread – gray clouds,
gray sea, gray gull, gray
dove... & every way
her wing turns (lifting raven-moods).
7.14.16
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