the sigh that falls on absence

skyward tendrils form invisible drifts

that christen smoking aspirations,
a golden chrism of gasped consecration-
your sacrifice so heaven in unseen mist.

can you sense again the crush of crinoline,

that opened, playful, your emerald chalice?
did the hush and hiss of the aural world
cast a sensual catechism on your carousel,
and did you mind, in your mind, or elsewhere?

remember the glorious cascade that roared
near gorse, sharp brambles, and naked thorns,
a course of white torrent through the chasm,

caressing velvet rocks and mossy pebbles
with the natural peace of untamed streams-

recall the scary roar that measured passion-
so sweet your quiver near metronome reeds:

remember that blistering, glistening yellow prism

when the blue grotto and red rhythm
could not help but sanctify the sky.

were the cirrus spasms that stained your dress
reflected in the wispy clouds that hid the lidless sun
in the lidded moment of your rolled white eyes-
that stole the bright but not the warmth
from bronze monstrance and rushing brook?

did the hawthorn blooming unusually pink
bleed a little on your blushing thigh?

in the subtle saffron of your sublime quiet
lies the silent history of what was
and what lives, still, in the musk of memory.

kyrie eleison
kyrie eleison
kyrie eleison