WHEN THE AIR WAS STILL

WHEN THE AIR WAS STILL

We were together and she fell.
Her name I could never spell.
When morning came the trees then shaded
a sunlit spot in forest gladed.
I came upon a table polished.
God is love but who is nourished?
A single anchor hanging down.
A ritual without a sound.
The rivers of youth and death
are now awake where they once crept.
I tamed a serpent in my hand
and buried a woman in the sand.
Prester John has come again,
although he never left us then.
Animals now cough at night.
And clarity seems recondite.
The clouds made shadows on her chest
as she prepared for final rest.
I was born to forget my death.
I was born to count my breath.
A paper bag lived in the breeze
while my love died of a new disease.
I mourned her when the air was still,
and lay on her grave in the morning chill.