Life, Love & Direction

Life, Love & Direction

Ernest Williamson III

How can modality sever our way,
our bond beyond acrimonious reruns,
murders reported with alacrity
and sanctimonious emotion?

I've been hugged by the aspirated stems
of forgotten plants
the hand-falls of reception,
oxygen awaiting sighs of revision
odes of change
acts of promise.
How can modality sever our way,
since the mood in the high moon of our delights
shimmers with your command?
Not just your womanhood,
but your command of voice
in your marsh-mellow like palm,
longing for some recourse
in the lines you imbue.

Poetic lines,
stained, but unwritten;
especially upon the grace
of the Cross:
four directions,
one love.