i see you there up against the wall
your features frozen
i reach out to pull you away
but my hands feel only the smooth cold of stone
laid and set firm so very long ago
where my hands fail to find you
my touch hangs in the air, quivering
caught limp in dead branches
my eyes torment me with their insistence
that the tight ferocity of your lips
the ancient majesty of your bones
caught in the cold
clutch of these old stones
ache to emerge
but as i turn away so spent
dead leaves of my eyes spilling the spoiled wine of my heart
there are no hands to hold me but yours
and they are blocked
they are locked into your perfect lines
of stone

1976
for wendy