Encore

royal sunset

Day, in dying, blushes rose

From claret clouds to sunset toes;

Proof that while all good things end,

Dawn breaks bright with hope again.

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Happily Never After

frosty sedum

Father Frost descends and nips

The world with frosty fingertips,

Nudging verdant green aside,

Dressing all in brilliant white.

Autumn colours kissed by cold

Now sink beneath his frigid hold;

Sleeping Beauties sigh farewell,

For death will never kiss and tell.

Counterpoint

fallen leaves

 

There’s nothing remarkable

about giving Gravity

his way, nothing noteworthy

about this free-fall; no great

burden of excellence hangs

about the necks of the damned

as they rot in earthen graves.

.

Falling is too natural

to draw comments from the stands,

stumbling too easy to raise

an eyebrow or stir surprise.

So when she rose from the dead,

walked away from the compost

in her burnt orange platform

heels, she really stepped it up.

Hold Your Breath

brilliant daylily

 

Hold your breath, you mortals

dressed in borrowed skin; this flesh

is none the wiser for all

its pomp and frenzy, nor more

permanent for all its sheer

transparency. Tread lightly

on this hallowed sphere, ingest

into gossamer lungs this

gossamer oxygen (pale

ribbons, bare hints of spectral

wares weaving life to living)

which seeks to wrap the broken

things with something less broken.

Dare you raise your head into

heaven? Walk in sandaled feet

where bushes quiver with flame?

Romanced, death may yet conquer

all – unless we marry Love

to Chaos, Grace to Weakness;

in that thread of hope-light, flesh

may yet walk in dignity,

skin wrap bare bones in pupal

cases which crackle with life.

Unlikely Rays

bright sunflower

 

Golden hair is her halo –

lion’s mane, courage sprouting

from a heart enriched by dark

seeds sown on dark days in soil

black as pitch. Unlikely rays,

these; conceived where the sun won’t

shine, unwanted pregnancy

buried before birth, daring

to cling to more than it was

cracked up to be. Only Life

can mimic sunshine itself,

replicate such unbridled

nuclear energy, turn

the switch that kills Death dead,

lighting the way for us all.

 

The Funeral

Saskatchewan Landing sunset

Her heart is a sinking sun,

pooling patches of dried blood

on a canvas thickening

with yesterday’s paint. Tucked in

rich velvet and laid to rest

(open to public viewing)

she mourns its passing, pressing

treasured lines of scrawled script to

lips of stone, epitaph carved in

lieu of flowers. Rays of light,

the glory days of holding

and being held, protrude from

memories slashed through the frayed

places where sky meets casket’s

edge. The sun will rise again

but not today, not until

a thousand tomorrows have

burned to ashes, cremation’s

signature on cloud-sealed urn.