issue 26 > poetry > kuspit
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in homage to death v
by Donald Kuspit
emperor,
you wear my old clothes,
and mother's and father's,
ramshackle
with dirt,
the endless grave
of oblivion,
the weary words
of mourning,
the last rites
of loving,
you my last lover.
wonder surges
across the horizon,
into the mists
of memory,
over the moors
of myth,
the swamp of shadows
overtaking
my silence,
the clouds blundering
across the blackness,
time obscured
in thought,
seductively transparent,
you shamelessly naked
in their embrace.
the blood has calmed,
the callousness
forfeited,
the wit lamed,
all that remains
is the stone
that stands
in your place.