|
WHISTLING SHADE |
by Charles Evans
and one must remain in
the depths. funeral potatoes prepared
and served, we fell beneath
the bottle. in the churchyard
where wandered the peacocks all
the stones were quarried. seasonal
omens were observed. shadow and
dank only hid in the
passage tombs we went through,
gentle cups and stones in
wide circles around the decaying
dead, minds and eyes slowly
slipping from the darkened bodies,
in repose in the dust.
dank and shadow move to
one side to push your
bones nearer mine. in the
churchyard above our soupy organs
the peacocks wander, reading omens
in stone and sky, predicting
winter.