you wear my old clothes,
and mother's and father's,
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
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
              the wit lamed,
all that remains
                        is the stone
that stands
               in your place.