Anne Walsh: Monday 11th April, 2016 #11 Beautiful Boxes

Beautiful Boxes

 Your eye through a fissure was light in me

for the first time

in millennia.

And my tomb heart flooded.  An exposure,  then a push

down, 

a forever ,

you climbing

down

me

the torch of your body  astonishing oxygen,

something all of a sudden needed (me gasping!)

light climbing down all those parts of me

so long preparing for afterlife

my big outlined charcoal eye, my cat,

my incense travelling,  a prayer

from the sickle silhouette

of my moon hands

                eclipsed

for a moment when your light passed .

I marvelled at you, strange firefly!

My gifts crumbling

on air as you catalogued my limbs.

Then.

You left me.

My heart back in its jar.

 My unspeaking organs

back in their beautiful

boxes.