By Chad Hollis
Uncurling sleep
the rose beds down
in the milk of the moon
collecting chinks of cold
the spoon lock of stone walls
drinks deep arches
unpenetrated;
Burns stars between his toes
around the fountains
the light goes underfoot
blooms garlands
He walks
his
leaded thoughts
through glass;
The tides press in
sepulchers of moss
the gargoyle in her bed
of water dreams blows verdigris
feathers float from eaves
pollinating lilies
His forehead
like a sleeve to hold
her lines
tremble with tears
scars
in the garden
harden
One thrown stone
throws a green tide
she is woven
between the locks
He is regretting
that he never let her in
to fall down on her knees
to pray