We imagined this disease would pass
Like a comet over you on its hot musical way,
Lighting you as one purified by fire.
Orchids,
they counseled ,
lilies,
Weep no more.
Your coffin juts from my sleep .
Days of precise weather haunt me.
The stones in cathedrals are damp
From weeping.
Wooden pews swell and seem to splinter under us.
Kneeling there as you pass
It has never been so far from my heart
To the ground.
How can I cast myself out
Over the glistening prey of daylight
Again , in assent?
Friend, I make a trellis for you to train on.
Wind level and far as the stars
On which the night grows , and hangs .
