AEAEA
Recurring Dream Island

June 2005
 
 

25 June 2005
 

You No Mere
 

Summer the long-besotted sieve of
memories, drenched, whose flayed white spines
laid spirally—love me, strangely gifted
seeker of sooth whose pale designs
were borne on a bed of bleeding wetness
ever so softly long ago,
wept through a sleepless storm, the guest of
severally issued breaths of woe,
then caught between interlacing fingers
opened a web of cracks to cling
to rivers of branching lightning, singing—
Love me—you no mere mortal thing.