For Laurie Ball

picture1

Outside Damascus.
(For L B)

High heart
Trembling in its trap of bone.
Eyes
Opaquely staring.
Ears
Ringing with the fleeing horses’ beat.
Feeling
The sand against his skin.
Sensing
The slow gather of threats about him.

And now,
The fire of wounded eyes,
The day-bright accusation.
Tongue
Not now fat with righteousness,
Articulates a dry rattle,
Tocsin for excuses fled
And arguments as empty as
The tomb.

The last flicker of earthly lust is ash
And dust the taste of treasured praises.
Blood on the winning steel
Has turned to rust,
The feast of self-esteem become a crust
And all joy,
Sorrow.

Advertisements

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s