for fallen letters, what shall be the frame?
by what peculiar law shall corpses meet
the living earth, form fitting for a shroud?
he wraps the feathered moon in milky white:

the linen law is hospitality
for questionable avatars of death.
the tide of peace is drawing known and un-
known sustenance. signals of opening

her laundered veil, returning as nearer
horizon frames the name; sustaining air
for flown word waxing into prayer; marriage
for metered heart — dark face for closer ground.

//

🌖