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For Class
She stands before me
Dressed like a pea, with coat.
Her hands wave unimaginatively
Caressing the delicate air
In which she waits
For autumn.
The grass breaks gently underfoot
And slowly I turn to face the breeze
Of warm blankets,
My waking tomb.
Sky turns grey now
Suddenly voracious to torrent
Yet we stand complacent
Brandishing skin to weather
while the gulls cheer and cackle.
The sky opens red
Dammed waters flood
and, softly, the concrete
sighs in the distance
Accompanied now by flame
We undress to the rhythm
of crackle in triplets.
Faith, born in us from rain
Ripples now as waves.
Whispers.
beautiful 'My waking tomb' a
beautiful
'My waking tomb' a striking line
You don the ancient tale of attraction in new clothes