(after Georg Trakl)
The meaning of water is dark;
the night has a broken brow.
Footsteps fall in the ancient park
by the sycamore’s rustling bough.
Chamber music on a winding stair
which a moon softly climbs.
A blue tabernacle opens where
a ruined church bell chimes
and nuns sing in the rotted choirs.
As we drift through deserted lands
a sad flute scatters the starry fires
that fall on your skeletal hands.