Crawlspace

by Asotir

shines;

  My love is tearful as the tallow’s noiseless fall,

  As understanding as the darkness of an empty hall.

  My love for thee is darkness and white lace

  On which a candle, with its silent flame, says grace.

  Requiescat In Pace

  We begot Love,

  You and I—

  Love, our first born—

  And we clothed her

  In lunar brocades,

  And held her in our arms;

  We heard her laugh

  As though an angel

  Played upon a lyre

  Whose strings were silver fire.

  We watched her run to us—

  Her hair like willow leaves—

  Trailing,

  Curving—

  And took her hand,

  Flesh clothed

  In petals of a rose,

  Then ran with her—

  Our child,

  Our first born—

  Into the lilac night.

  In one satin hand,

  She held the small pearl dagger

  That you made for her

  From words.

  Suddenly

  Cloud draperies closed

  Upon the windows of the stars.

  In faltering dark,

  Love fell,

  The satin hand still clenched.

  Blood’s liquid fire flamed bright

  Upon her breast,

  And died grey ash.

  She is dead ………

  The child begotten of us,

  Our first born………

  ………

  ………

  I will bury her

  Beneath the pear tree;

  There only a drift

  Of petal snow

  Will mark her grave.

  Sonnet On Desire

  To feel the wild sweet warmth of you, my own,

  By reaching out my soul; to gently feel

  Curved chest, arm-sinews, pulses never known

  Save by the sea’s fierce surge ’gainst naked keel;

  To kindle fires in hollows of my form

  And feel them blossom in bright aching pain

  That veils and bathes the flesh in violent storm

  And then knows calm caress of tender rain—

  The kiss of supple lips; the quiv’ring stir,

  Delicious message of a finger’s touch

  Sent through the veins, the heart’s electric murmur

  Of “I desire so much – so much—”

  With these, no need for heaven and rebirth—

  I find the love divine upon this earth.

  The Guardian Of The Wood

  You came and found me wandering in that tangled,

  Tortured wood,

  That some call “childhood”,

  Alone;

  And took me by the hand.

  Silently,

  Unknown,

  You led me through mazèd paths

  Where doubt,

  With terrifying greenness,

  Strives to choke out

  Paler petals of the beautiful;

  Still on,

  Through burr-filled crevices of the mind.

  Until now, at last, I find

  We stand upon the hill;

  And there is light.

  Below,

  The plain,

  Terraced with the struggle of all men;

  The rushing river comes

  To sweep another from the hill again.

  You must turn back now,

  Guardian of the Wood;

  And I must run behind the plow

  That furrows youth’s rich land.

  I drop your hand,—

  And am alone again.

  Yet I shall not be lonely,

  Though on the mountain range of age

  Should I be exiled;

  For Memory shall whisper sweet

  That once within the wood you took my hand,

  And smiled.

  – 30 –