That Shadow (the dappled veil)

That Shadow, the veil

Drawn over the glass

Of grave visage;

Serene, silent

As still lakes

Eternal, undisturbed

But for slithering tears

Rippling in sobbing wake.

That Shadow, the pale

Light of cindery skiff

Smoldering after weeping

Flames to dancing stars;

It echoes deaf

In the creases

Of quivering lips and eyes,

Prideful, and of pride bereft.

That Shadow, dappled

And hanging in Sunday

Summer swelter, the

Mercy of leafy oaks-

The hangman's assembled shelter-

It feeds in slow voracity

Of back bitten tears and

Those stolen years

As broken necks are bowed in prayer.

That Shadow, the pale and dappled veil-

It feeds.

In the depth of boundless cimmerian dreams

And the captive soul's breathless screams.