Butcher Black

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE RIVER IS ITS AMBER MERCY

 

—search, for ever a diver carving marks the darker rim.

 

In diagonal elegance, again in the lull of a circle’s ellipse, follow her to a final altar and leap from a cliff’s belief.

 

 

 

ON DULL CLOUDS’ LEDGE, the flowers blurred for her, and as the first girl lowered a garland of Sabbath rags, and as the last girl heard us drag a ladder on the clear floor, the darkness under her rid our upward dream of burden, Lord.