The Crowkeeper

"She gallops night by night through lovers' brains...."         I see grindstones in the sky,         pots of tulips overturned          - big tug of the reins         and chestnut hair         is seen before the windowpane         with chance & more chance lost to         frost or hungry bees         this still autumn eve.         Darling,         walls that division us         are envelopes of passion         bridging trust, seal it         lest it rust.         Skeletal scrapings         make for poor bedding         (this poor rhinoceros of lies)         the devil gliding about so disguised         on his tentacle and toenail chair         (inviting lair) or is it         hiccup and bandaged prayer         yet stalwart wall is a rosary bead         thick ale and bread to hungry snail         or, better, lips to Romeo's blushing pilgrims.         Then, sudden, I'm old -         on a bench counting stars         where each is a radiant patch of energy         leased to the dark,         an emblem burst mailed from eternity,         spark to cigaret's flame         to burn these little suns         as cupid tails; your "bright eye, scarlet lip,         fine foot, straight leg         and quivering thigh."