THE HYACINTH GIRL SPEAKS

There are shards on which we step
when the glass dome shatters
and we see
lucidly
that there is a last-
ditch chance to set our lands in order,
to splurge the wage
and buy a silver locket that gleams,
to fold the news,
and have faith enough
to glimpse the slowed light
fall
through the drizzle
while picking hyacinths.

Though the years ensuing
are blank as the pearl eyes of a drowned sailor,
though in our hearts
the Great Crab scratches, scratches,
and though we fear death by
any manner,
                       for a breath’s pause
we are golden
in the throbbing silence,
the heart of light brims over,
my arms are heavy with flower,
Milady spreads her embrace over us in
holie matrimonie,
while my eyes fail and
a wind blows us over tropics
& ice-caps,
though time clicks like train wheels,
though the bridge will fall down,
and a dried root snaps
in the jaws of the black hound.