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Poetry Magnum Opus

immortal


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Flowers do they have ghosts?-when will it reach


Heaven’s ground blood death drew with a ghostly


Thorn. Songs are interwound, rook and robin watch


And mourn at the passing of a fruit tree.


I stole a rose from the grave next to my


Lovers, the moon peels the night away death shaves


Me with his knife-he whisper’s his alibi,


It was not him-the sun and moon are thieves


Weaving frail narratives, my love did not


Leave she will shake a spectral tree releasing


The fruit making it fall for eternity, brought


To heaven’s tree by dead relatives waiting


For earthly rain to resurrect the trunk


And shrivelled roots to make an eternal link.

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