Upon a Palanquin

Long ago when violence was muted in black
And loneliness was crippled crawlies under beds
And fires were only in stoves with gray coals
Closer and closer into the harsh pillow fumes
They all went
He was brought in with mother upon a palanquin
From which she sang songs of love and birth
With soft lips creaking soft whispers through curtains
Drawn back in dawn as time creates cracks in fabric
But He has been torn up since he first heard
And it tears with time until the light comes
Rushing in
Father Time fought against the room receding
Into the brink with other men who work, then
A burnt house with timbered love,
Timbered sensations, whisked with cracks
Creasing across her forehead that melts
In Inferno
In days long ago when songs were heard
In misty light, in fading bright kites floating
In fabric red gliding into the sky until wind
Let’s go.