Grey Skies

Outside the house,
on a silk of skinny acorns
bold lilies throw off leaves
as a man throws off his jacket,
we lie making a circle on the grass,
on berries and their silent, holy
curvature. We show them
something utterly unlike
themselves.

A dark,
pungent flower
disassociates, the fading smell,
as blue rivers pull away from the land
like men going about their lives - hearing the sound
of the sea.