---

Painting the hideous

on day's beloved scenes,

lacerating with horrid light

the skins of shallow waters.

Dead flowers

drink

deep of the shimmering wounds.

The willow beckons,

weeping a Gorgon hiss

to stone-carved lovers

poised grotesque in the mist.

Dead faces sigh, dreaming.

What lore lies writ

by gnawing worms

in rotting flesh?

What secrets of sepulchral summer

hide in the shadowed bowers

beneath her grin of pale fire?

I take the sea as my shrine

and wander the garden no more