harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
i can see quite clearly the certainty of your neck place where your scar is -- that i should kiss --
if only to tell you i have not forgotten.
i might touch quite closely -- the murmur between chin and lowered lip where my mouth lolled and that tower once gleamed:
my glazed smile lazes in(or at?)that immortal half dream gently follicled and feathered; my limbs are still the downy lightness you loved oh so much; my flesh delicately stinging with paper cuts --
"tower," i will grin. in a sunny shade with ice at the edges of my teeth: "tower, my love, tower."
and your eyes lower, not seeing why my tongue flowers on clandestine concubine gists: "tower" oh so much a glimmer of past life, as dad's honeyed knife at breakfast time.
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