By the Rim of an Ancient Well

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    (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.