Lost
Ah the ghosts of my blind love-image
run with arms akimbo flutter-fast-flailing
beneath the flapping of the
blood-cape,
once wrapped shroud
pure-light-tight
now assundered-torn,
dragging-heavy
dark-drenched in filth
Ah the ghosts run until ragged, desperate
for a candle to light their
mission to regain
the hill of simple-spun unconditional love
upon which they thought they
could
they would, rest - in the soft rain of
forevever
~
