Carty Two

I stand by her grave, where praise be, I hope to be laid, my eyes like thunder, wine dark like the sea, it makes me shudder, from the blue Nave, stripped down like a tree, she’d nothing to give, here and there a cluster, a poplar breeze, it doesn't pass muster, my voice starts to break, it's late for the season, geese fly away, her face is the wonder, happy laughing clean, that I tore asunder, it's quiet at this place, my place of need, it fits her casket, left open for me.