One morning bloom,
the air is thick with sorrow,
all colours black, white
& the Noir atmosphere
is brewing across the skin
/
somewhere a mystery is
trying to unfold itself,
unwrapping old wounds,
/
there amongst the
ground of dead lilies
a distant howl of
heartaches intensifies
yet still within the muteness
of the body
/
& while the brisk of
murmur, unheard, past
the valley of this
unfamiliar space,
there is the urgency
for the...