My skull is an empty canvas, Isabella,
Upon which now fond trellis grow,
The roots and shoots of basilico;
Like a copse covered shrine,
Where no body comes or goes,
To offer flower or mead any more,
But a maiden’s libation of tears
Still feeding the lips that once
Rose to kiss and fell for wrath.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The murdered man
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
good, liked the use of 'libation'; 'Where no body comes or goes' reminded me of Edward Thomas''Adlestrop' where a train stopped and 'No one left and no one came/ On the bare platform. What I saw/ Was Adlestrop- only the name', though the context is entirely different...........
ReplyDelete