We shall meet again..
We shall meet again
by the gates
of the villa of peace
we’ll meet again
our hands blossoming into fists
till the soldiers return the keys & disappear..
Again we’ll enter
our last world,
the first that vanished in our absence
from the broken city..
We’ll tear our shirts for torniquets
& bind the open thorns,
warm the ivy into roses..
Pluck the blood
my words will echo thus at
sunset by the ivy,
but to what purpose?
In the drawer of the cedar stand,
white in the verandah
we’ll find letters..
When the post offices died,
the mailmen knew we’d return to answer them..
Better if he’d let them speed to death,
blacked out by autumn’s press trust
not like this taking away our breath
holding with love’s anonymous scripts
see how your world has cracked
why aren’t you here?
Where are you?