Dec 152014
 
Heed the webbed hand walking in the corner
Coiling its oil of silks;
Attend decay, the devil in the flower,
The spider in the milk;

Tell to the tolling look in the clock's face
How your love's forever;
Inform the acid winds of your rock of grace
As you together shiver;

Known to the moon are your proud, puffed cries,
Your spindrift web of inks;
Counted in Atlantic's cracks lie heroes' lives
That slick and sink.

Stride dying, my mayflies, along the dead flower's rim
Heedless in your ruin;
And skate the tickling ice that bursts your veins
My merry skeletons!

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