I thought of you

There is
As much light
In a glass of rain

As the work
Of flowers’ basking faces

The strayed mischance 
Slanting by
The boards’ sopranino-clef

I thought of you
Left the glass
Drained to the pale silt
Of passing Sunday afternoons
On the ledge
Almost unseen
The way a drop
On a broad green leaf
Swole to a cyst

Pours away

A swan passing
With that complex
Treble-clef insistence
Of her bent-necked attention

Veils and shrouds
Are almost the same
In the way they hide your mouth

Broke from reverie
With the kind of equine start
That warily insists
Hand inadvertently flickering
Against unseen adumbrations 

That slight, eroded horizon

Fell to winter’s shards
The blood drops leaching 
From lax fingers, raised to lips

The warm, silent taste

Too bright to dismay
Another shallow sunrise