Assemblage
Such gatherings spiral into dust motes
swirling with melancholy. Death,
languidly armoured with sole intent
and smeared ambivalence, shuffled
its feet, then reached for the symbols.
Dressed in pillars within woolsack
the bodies come already repaired,
with words ill-prepared. Both stack
tall or lounge in disarray, wooden gears
interlock, and the moment clears its throat.
Starlings flutter under eaves, the day
advances in waves. There are layers
woven into the broadcloth of words
within this murmuration. The tableau
breathes, suspended in its susurration.
Trembling pennons tied to columns
halt the reach of morning. Precious
walls curtain our sharing the further
feminine trinities, liquid fate and
iconic totems - all colophons of a
creative God’s written architecture.
