Spring, Year III

[TranquillityBase]

Beyond the severance
of a death now history
one yearning survives: 
desire for the Other,
to embrace her lithe embodiment 
outside the fires
of loneliness and contempt.
In my gathering eyes 
incipient green interdicts
winter’s pale yellows
and an indifferent wind envelops
my hovering torso
mutating mind into skin,
enabling skillful lacerations 
by a tender technician
whose directed sins
assume presence 
and a radiance without end.
Her voice mocks
my dwindling mortality 
in coded incongruities.
My last striving:
this arcing ache
into a lasting shroud
shriven of memory or return.