For a close and loving relative. 1993. 
I grasped his strong hand
weeping edema beneath
mottled skin and
pulsed coded messages.
Then with a kiss
placed gently upon his brow,
withdrew, and said good-bye.
Around us, aprons of sand
embroidered shores of saline oceans.
Inland, grasses wove their tapestries.
Grains, blades and salted pools mingle;
reservoirs for creation,
respositories for death.
Silent is our
morning’s song,
lost our morning’s glory.
The grasses, stilled by quiet winds sleep
day-long now. Rays of crimson sunbeams
like thorns, pierce
the clouds of our despair
as our dissonant cries fade
into nothingness.