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I’ll Find You on the Hill

The swirl of clouds on sepia sky,
Make silhouette the swinging shape
of Peter’s bell hung high.
The cluttered step of grave regret
Tread deep this trail of mine.
A crawl of men, each weathered hand,
Held high, a box, a contriband,
To house the heat of paramour’s fire,
Cloaked and claimed as funeral pyre.
 
Ash to ash
And father’s flash
Of brazen shame held stead and fast,
Bid firm farewell, I face the night,
Denied my tuppence, left and right,
As day grows late, my new estate,
Lies silent on that hill,
And on my stone, let it be known,
My name is mine, and mine alone.
 
The crash of hands through crimson clay,
Toll true against the turning earth
To carve a plot to lay,
An open mouth, placed still and south,
To steal me from my ardent ways,
Of fevered calls, before the fall,
That brought down swift the prayer and pall,
The sky now dims within a frame,
That creaks to close wrung thick with blame.
 
Dust to dust
A mother’s trust,
Warped and stained but firmly clutched,
A splash of oil to feed the light,
Carried through each endless night,
Room to room, through broken gloom,
The candle still will burn,
All that I’ve left, held close to breast,
A flame to light this hollowed nest.
 
The thundered fall of sodden dirt,
Pounding down to bind my joints
And rend my loins inert,
A churning rot of hearts forgot,
Poured to drown this swain interred,
But eyes held wide, betray the lie,
That all that raged is ready to die,
The punctured heart roars hard with haste,
Lest any moment fall to waste.
 
Pulse and pound,
A steady sound,
To echo out 'til match is found,
A bond reformed to grant release,
As each sin scarred is but a piece,
Of something whole, split half and doled,
A tryst of lover’s die.
A passion fought,
And called to court,
Pushed apart by fingers taut,
That withered hand that routes the flock,
To march the hill and dig the plot,
Where lover bides, and dreams designs,
Of coupled crypt, a scarlet shrine.
A question seared upon the tongue,
And never shall it die:
My last request, please tell me this,
Where that other grave should lie?

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