spilling over

Arch & brow
salty the tear spent
there is no illusion in the waters
heavy the copper reaches bottom
you have laid yourself upon the threshing floor
to be measured as grains of sand
the dark green glass in the window holds a flower
daisy chains, letters unwritten

that float, that hover
Robins egg, specks of color in your moist eyes
You can cry mister, you can break
we'll dirty our faces with the dust of grave
and sit as still as Angels among the markers
There are Prophets among the stones
that rise as evening drinks the sky
upon my bare arms cool voices beckon
a shiver and a flash & to be flooded
like a river drunk on the rain
hushed, barely heard, my tongue is conducted by saints
the waters spill upon the page