Fixed in her hands there's a trembling fear
She's sailing to dimmer mars with nervous gears
She is full with a marching of clocks
Ticking discovery through the gate
Now on the lawn she spilled like infinity
Floating along on her bright olive skin
I felt the lost in the braille on her lips
It's reading the surfacing breath

Lovely seconds with her drift from me
The hooded in watchful gaze
Now she has left here

Place here with proxies to pale English rose
Lower her gently down on the stairs
In the borders of deepening earth you have been creeping there
Buried oars
Bitter froth wine her mother's tears drip
Severed young servants will sift past her lips
Poised in the stars are the stirrings of fools cresting the inward hills