All I see is your blurred soft face
Sapphires blue of quality corundum
then a streak of our suns red flame
I trace this flush image
my adoration pure epiphany
To me, our hands press
through clouded glass, our future
Clear, unclear, amidst vivid memory
always ahead of me,
You’re always ahead, future’s
A hazy blue, alongside my adoration,
An epiphany
As all we head to lands of the dead

II.
My Joy, sweet, tenuous
I once could play you soft and timorous
Tears swashing blue against your skin
our morning dew did know no sin
You’ve reached the hill-tops,
the sun’s yellow flame is now
a streak of red, racing past us
to the land of the dead

III.
The Sun unfolds Joy’s tired face
she yawns, stretches her Round slight jaw
at the puffed clouds in her blue sky
her body’s bowed with drops of dew

I die for her; she dies too.
Her desire is for spiritual foods
her groans consume my logic, fire
Clothes her
Nakedness, Her womb
she gasps, wants
to drink the sadness of men.
I quit my desire, strangle myself
with my own bone, cut short
to calm the bursting blood, red faced
the strength within me starts to bud
She sprung from a garden
once clothed in leaves of love

III.
My Joy, sweet, true, your face in
tears, droplets of blue purity
A sweet surely wet with honey-dew
My lips touch, taste your sweetness
And look how sorrowful you shine
spinning your petals
to turn water into wine
How proud you are
of what really the Sun has done;
I poke gently your stretched skin,
Feel the strained tenuous echo
of strings I’ve played within
Wrapped in your body
I feel enraptured now as then.

IV.
Her heat gasps with the warmth
Of glowing coals within her, fiery;
I quit my desire, strangle myself
With my own bone, cut short
To calm the bursting blood; red-faced,
The strength within me starts to bud
So I am young once more and willing
To be dumb again in love.
My Joy, sweet, tenuous,
I once could play you soft and timorous
Tears swashing blue upon your skin
Our morning dew did know no sin.
But dusk falls rapidly upon us
Skin once beautiful now onerous
Wrinkles us in shame, still honor finds us
in the dirges that remind me
of the life that’s lost behind us.
My Joy, sweet, tender, kind
How proud and sorrowful you shine
I must carry you within
Buried bodies know no sin;
You are beautiful and bright
Burn your brightest here tonight
and as dusk begins to call
Let us here upon it fall
Our closely sewn shadows touch silk, the cloth of our doom
and the curtains of death do shroud us in eternity’s womb…

Donald Standeford

 

3 thoughts on “For Joyce, My Joy

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