Isis

I fountain up to your sudden quiet
like a midnight oak
what other dream would awake me?
I reach for you by the breathing hands
of butterflies' flight, eyes on their ragged wings
as they alight upon the whiskers of forgotten saints you revere
needling from the earth tiny towers seeded with wisdom
unseen your floats, dancing into childhood's nose, the memories of the air.
I jump through the beginning age
you labyrinth with your maelstrom finger
like a pulsing clock
galloped with hidden outsiders
the sky flys away in amazement
just as the word inks in
& you are the purpling curtain of its ado
We, adorers of the once, uncover you everywhere open
making the invisible see itself
in the backward laughing blush
powdered by loving sands
dawning enigmas of your conception
arriving to escape.
Seraphims jet upon your delightful gloams
returned over the cries of probability breakthroughs
quivering into form the always noplace
occasioning tinkles, knockkneed, they whisper your feathers
while the I ching wings in
on my dying hand,
arisen again
like a tarantula
caught by the heavy web
off the stars you drew.