A Celebration

winter’s close lingered to include one
final death
and sighing shovelled graveyard dirt
into the hollow tower
itchy hearts worried prayer beads
clacking silver sins
while muggy tiles pushed all thoughts of
cleanliness aside
the blistered darkness echoed with soft
bruised consolations
grizzled celery scooched unceremoniously
next to pale tomatoes
my brash knife organizing perfect
polite piles of grief
this ticklish love an illusion, levitating
a prone sleeping form
held up by the tinny brace, celebrating
this prone sleeping woman
frozen desire weeps into the foundation
cracks, caves, collapsed