Sunflower Skins

September 26, 2008

Mon Petit Mort

Filed under: poetry — Tags: , , , , — Sunflower Skins @ 9:54 pm


Now into this life I see
The shape of you across my bed:
You are the Little Death of me.

The city spread out like the sea,
You reached to the wound in my head.
Now into this life I see.

Whate’er touch meant—my want—only
Love not your wife; choose me instead.
You are the Little Death of me.

Consume my heart entirely.
All words are for my Belovéd.
Now into this life I see.

Our bodies shake; we are set free
From the past. Shame and guilt are shed.
You are the Little Death of me.

A world apart from pain, we
Awaken ourselves from the Dead:
Now into this life I see
You are the Little Death of me.

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