the quiet always

of death

who leans into us a

          bit more
          each day and
          who's
          ivory
          stillness
                        creeps

death
          who steals

           crisp young

                     petals

                     from

                      inMay

                      trees


death
                      whose
                      leagues
                      upon miles
                      upon fathoms
                      of dreamless
                      shuteyes
                      strengthless
                      and wilts
                      mutest
                      uncolour

                      shall filch
                      meoryou
                      to soon from the other
                      's, unyouthing
                       also, arms

                                                but death never
                                                will conquer
                                                the svelte
                                                instant of your smile
                                                or the unlank verdance
                                                of their
                                                snarling crimson
                                                imping
                                                with my lips
                                                soundless
                                                legions of
                                                eternal
                                                SUMMER