She lived beyond the grave
Her shaded eyes
And deep pale skin
Coiled around an adders tongue
Like the agéd snake
In Eden’s garden.
Like Adam
He kept her close
And stroked her withered flesh.
At night, his own guilt
Walked a path around
Their endless suffering.
Dogged
The anger lay dormant
Doubled bedded
In his corpusculent frame.
He wore an angel’s smile
But his tweedy cloth
And whitened hands
Were stained with sin.
He washed her wounds
And combed her hair
And stroked her ashen face
Each touch raw with pain.
God had joined them in marriage
Young Raphaelites, ‘virginal and dewy’
But in Eden
Disease had poisoned their hearts.
Their broken dream
But a shaft of light
Mystical in the distance.
The fall from grace concluded
They sat at home
And heard the hours consumed.
Death would not come
Nor would life be whole
In that gloomy house.
Transfixed
Hand on heart
One breathing in the air of death
One choking on the taste of life.
When the time came
She departed slowly
And breathed no more.
He choked no more
His veins flooded with regret
At all those lost years.
Angry - he smashed her chair
And broke the mirror
That stored his ugly grace.
He scratched his nails
Across the wooden floor
To best her flesh
That clung there still.
Guilt and freedom
Launched their weathered ways
Across the treble clef.
The bells were hammered
The words were clothed
With the staunchéd pulse of life.
Her death bought him ripe tastes
Sweeter than the honey bee
More luscious than springtime
With its kisses, moist and warm.
Only memory stored the parchéd tongue
Of his long and wayward life
The Pilgrims Progress: Eden in reverse.
Gar Jones: February 2017
Her shaded eyes
And deep pale skin
Coiled around an adders tongue
Like the agéd snake
In Eden’s garden.
Like Adam
He kept her close
And stroked her withered flesh.
At night, his own guilt
Walked a path around
Their endless suffering.
Dogged
The anger lay dormant
Doubled bedded
In his corpusculent frame.
He wore an angel’s smile
But his tweedy cloth
And whitened hands
Were stained with sin.
He washed her wounds
And combed her hair
And stroked her ashen face
Each touch raw with pain.
God had joined them in marriage
Young Raphaelites, ‘virginal and dewy’
But in Eden
Disease had poisoned their hearts.
Their broken dream
But a shaft of light
Mystical in the distance.
The fall from grace concluded
They sat at home
And heard the hours consumed.
Death would not come
Nor would life be whole
In that gloomy house.
Transfixed
Hand on heart
One breathing in the air of death
One choking on the taste of life.
When the time came
She departed slowly
And breathed no more.
He choked no more
His veins flooded with regret
At all those lost years.
Angry - he smashed her chair
And broke the mirror
That stored his ugly grace.
He scratched his nails
Across the wooden floor
To best her flesh
That clung there still.
Guilt and freedom
Launched their weathered ways
Across the treble clef.
The bells were hammered
The words were clothed
With the staunchéd pulse of life.
Her death bought him ripe tastes
Sweeter than the honey bee
More luscious than springtime
With its kisses, moist and warm.
Only memory stored the parchéd tongue
Of his long and wayward life
The Pilgrims Progress: Eden in reverse.
Gar Jones: February 2017