Ex Tempore I

and from the heart's last pattering
came a fluttering
and a sputtering
from the mouth that was but a stuttering

there in the dark
gasped a flicker, rioted a spark
where laboured screeches of the horned lark
grew faint—desperate to leave its mark

quivering for but a while
love and hate misstepped in file
and were swallowed whole, wholly reviled
by men, who thought them too mild

just as dawning suns stood
tall they were shortly trampled under foot
by romping sons—just because they could
but did they ever wonder that they knew they would?

I had been there as well, the growing mould
on my skin telling it all, but it had already rolled
up; and then I was left alone and cold
my pulse struggled a word, but slowed

M.M. — Ianuarius et Februarius MMXI