Three Love Songs, Part II:
Summer, Severance, Sighs

Song of Summer


Lost lover—
freed secrets from beyond the ochre mist,
   our tryst—
sleeping in yron dusk, lovely buttons,
slim neckline, adored.
A canto to your eye, an hour never bored;
to pass the while with golden company,
   many seconds pass in your light.

Gained shadow—
loose marbles of Geryon-size,
   my prize—
quiet now, dear love; your mouth
betrays our pact, condemned.
A verse for the oath from which this stemmed;
and concealed, stored in
   marble box I keep ’neath my ruins.

Guided path—
I think of summer days together on the grass,
   where I sighed amidst your form
and introduced you to a world
   beyond the world.

 

 

Song of Severance

 

            She grew upon a bough of jade,
            Trickling roses grasped o’er slade beyond;
And through the glens, her bright frond glowed,
Lighting up this darkn’ing land of slowed respite.
            A silver frost encroached with bite unseen
            To pluck her from the life she had been born:
      But tho night claws with toxic tooth, morn protects,
      And throws its silent voice and detects harm;
Base shadow is betrayed and thrown back to calm peace,
Whilst pure kindness in mortal form is given keys eternal.

            I found her upon the flowered earth,
            Shed from the boughs of her birth-tree;
And as she sat, her hands masked what she would see before
The elements themselves conspired to make sore wounds.
            A sheen of ice separated the moon’s light
            From her severed form, as it shone bright gem;
      I lifted her faerie form, and we danced, her dress’s hem lifted
      To reveal earthen legs of sap, gifted upon
This single damzell with which to waltz under yon boughs
From which she was shed; we held ’neath the lune’s arouse, yfere.

            We footed gaily upon the sable sea,
            Ensconced within our dreams, she finer
Than I could have ever been; altho I ween’d a minor feare,
That time is ever fickle, this severance drew not near afore
            Our plaintive nostalgia for what could draw below;
            Instead our lips amet, betraying solitude and thro’ terror,
      Hidden yet by the crystal waves lapping our ankles, rarer tho
      It be — this love of severance, a man and nymph so bound
By existence’s love and irony: that yet our dance was sound, clear,
We wept foresight: for we knew that passion’s end was rising ever near.

 

 

Song of Sighs


Make a sign with me, good love;
I’d chance a kiss for you,
If the weather allowed.

A slight patter through
The gambrel-roofed avenues
Where we hide.

A penumbral peck
Is worth the fear of being found,
You in that silken dress.

It fits you well, spiderweb
Wrapped around your waist:
Caught, just like I.

Don’t close your eyes, O girl;
Night will soon close
As rain falls on our shoes.

We shall return apart; so it must be,
Our movements sheltered
By o’erhanging lights.

Your soft breath upon my lips:
A small sigh exudes
Your eversweet scent and taste.

 

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