In Manolo Blahniks,
While her chair wears her jacket    
And her fingernails play Orpheus                              
   On a cigarette
                         packet,       
                                 
            A cold goddess in stone                
And a flounce of french lace,
     Gravelled footsteps
                            don't lift

Her resting-*****-face.                                    
So I announce
my arrival                      
With an unconfident cough,
                Her eyes still
on the sunset,  
             She tells me to...
                                           ****
                                                   off.

hold the silence to your ear
and hear
the voices of the dead
in their desperate loss
or eternal joy
they may cry out for one more breath of life
or
whisper the solace they have found
in the light
the soul is not lost
the spirit carries on
in the silence they await
for you and I to open our hearts