Saline |
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. |