In the Hall of Perish lies
The memory of our love
This sage palais
Extending out to the
Long mall of my heart
Like flatlands of exhale that
Spread beyond this
Earthen horizon

This dull stubble of soil
Capsized on the vast plains
Of anchored corridors
Maps us like a presidio
Of swollen desire as the
Bladed lace of your sighs
Voice the stars, in thought,
And you begin singing …

It is in this dearth of burden
Where there is poetry
[there is no poetry]
Between where we think
We understand and
What is known only
To the universe of Melody

This, this is where we live now
There is no viscera of vision
Only slow light fanning against
The wings of the moon as we
Become the radiant fray
Varicose and indignant
In the treachery of
Love’s travail

 
© K. James Ribble