Silver infection
the fingers of time
have slipped behind
an edge and travelled
like a forest mould
Albino branches
pure as Hemlock
Foraging
in the sliver of reflection
A tub faucet whispers
and drips
weeping in the darkness
a windowlight is faint
this far into its reach
Twilight era
between morning or
dusk and the black
of Midnight
Those dance dreamers
knocking loose the
thumbtack illusions
on the wall
of delusion
falling like useless
wings
too dust and snow
even the clocks grown
still..the battery
has perished

an arm in light trickling
through thick shades
has its downy allusion
like a field of snow
porcelain with its
golden sheaves
a delicate chain
and curled lashes

above in a day
in a year of a past
or a future chosen
an arch of blue
with its marbled
visage slides
graceful and dark
like a bottle of
poison..a tonic
of cure
Loves Illness
alone
on her way
taking with me
the tenderest
cuts
the choice
of her meal

....