Art in Quarantine

Dennis
Elleflot

In Country

It sounds I think like the litany from some long forgotten religion

            like wind in a forest

            the rhyming sinuous chant of tongues

            music to my dreams

            lost in you

            lost in you

            music of bitterness played sweet sounding

            music near music

            voiceless incantations

            lost to you

            lost to eternal quietude

            lost to me

            lost to you

            bound by iron bands

            inseparable

            your flesh

            my body

            your bitterness

            my pain

            your life

            my certain death

            your wish for final peace

            carried to the edge of night

            while I seek the earthy coarseness of you

            your musk

            your deathly wish

Your darkness swirls…curls round my face

            hides you forcing my memory

            to construct fictitious realities

            to draw a nourishing meal from glass and sand

            to carry you gentle in the palm of my hand

            respectful of your fragile nature

            creating for me an impossible burden

            seeking love in lusterless eyes

            understanding from your limited mind

            a place in your bitter world

            softness against ancient pottery shards

Sometimes in dreams I see your face

            soft unmarked as never in life

            I almost love you

            almost reach out to touch your skin

            to cry for you as no one ever cried for you

            to allow you to need me

            even across the ultimate boundary

            to be the son you never permitted

            closing the miles

            but those desires cannot reach you

            so on I go as best I can

            seeking my own forgiveness

            walking life’s edges on moonless nights

            moving carefully through unmapped territories

            where fear seeps through me as blood through a bandage

            fouling my vision compounding my danger

            forcing me to caress your toadstool flesh

            to embrace you close to my heart in pretended salvation

            to move through fear soaked territory in godless grace

            demanding survival from an indifferent universe

            while full of salty blustering arrogance learned from you

            punctuated by the quiet slosh of water in my canteens

Sing me please a silly song

            allow me the foole in you

            walk with me through this foul and terrible land

            this waking nightmare

            hold me to your breast

            please…

            make my death easy

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