So fair are you, my bonny lass,
so sick and strange am I,
that I must lie with all your loves
and suck your sweetness dry.
And drink your juices dry, m y dear,
and grind your bones to sand,
then I will walk the empty shore
and sift you through my hand.
And sift you through my hand, my dear,
and find you grain by grain,
and build your body bone by bone
and flesh those bones again
with flesh from all your loves, my love,
while tides and seasons stream,
until you wake by candle-light
from your midsummer dream
In The Park
She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.
Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.
A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt
Someone she loved once passed by – too late
to feign indifference to that casual nod.
“How nice” et cetera. “Time holds great surprises.”
From his neat head unquestionably rises
a small balloon…”but for the grace of God…”
They stand a while in flickering light, rehearsing
the children’s names and birthdays. “It’s so sweet
to hear their chatter, watch them grow and thrive, ”
she says to his departing smile. Then, nursing
the youngest child, sits staring at her feet.
To the wind she says, “They have eaten me alive.”