To have six
readers
Is an
almighty ambition
A
tremendous vanity
A vast
supposition
An
attainment on a par
With the
best effort of Emily Bronte
Who talked
of death and the linnet
Before
Messiaen was imprisoned
And
Maeterlinck could whistle
I heard the
blood of a star stopped
When he
played a certain chord
I heard the
angels whisper
As she put
away the sword
It’s rude
to embrace and stare
As the cold testimony of the granite organ stop
As the cold testimony of the granite organ stop
Which
plunges through her heart
Her
sepulchritudinous lair
Her
infinite pool of mist in darkness
Rises like
a holy well
through the
magnetic channel of a marble pillar
into my
baying arms…
it was the
sixth prayer I’d offered heaven
before the
chill came through the floor
from the wet earth below
to undead me
for the seventh.
thank you cindy!!
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