INTERCESSION

I sweeten her life
with my voice.

Recite
as she dies

poems she likes
scattered fragments of her

childhood
the dictionary has a word for it

"loveless"
as clinical as that.

It pins her
like a butterfly

in a collection
in her father's study.

There is only my voice.

She smiles.
Steps into the poem

It closes
about her.

". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . . ."

There are no more words.

Only thought
that places her

in her poem
this her heaven.

My words
an intercession

taking her beyond
this world.

The words
love her.

I close her eyes.

I close my eyes.

*

TAMBURLAINE

"Nature, that fram'd us of four elements
Warring within our ******* for regiment,
Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds.
Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend
The wondrous architecture of the world,
And measure every wandering planet's course,
Still climbing after knowledge infinite,
And always moving as the restless spheres,
Wills us to wear ourselves and never rest,
Until we reach the ripest fruit of all,
That perfect bliss and sole felicity,
The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.”

― Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlaine the Great, Part 1