The Cloth

I Pulled, I tugged,
the white cloth from you,
my dearest one.
My hand caressed, and sifted, was made able.
I pulled.
you laid,
resting. Lifted slightly above me.
The white handkerchief I pulled and held before me.
I cry for you,
a joyous cry.
All pain, all turmoil, all shaking, all fear, lay captured,
in here,
the white cloth, the handkerchief.
Removed.

Yet like large, black, horrendous clouds lifted,
The torrent of this cloth must fall back,
Down. Striking dry ground.
The necessity.

In brevity of moment, I waved the cloth on myself.
my body to take every inch.
My courage took place by your new face.
Toppled by my fear with my future’s embrace.

I cried.
but not joyously.

My anguish took hold of me,
as I might let you down.
the cloth must fall now.
please let me be.

Dashing right into me,
rushed back to my senses,
A torrent did come, but not what I expected.
I saw a rock breaking, in the dark garden beneath.
The moon.
The cloth must fall.
It must fall on him.
And so it entered.
it entered, the cloth and all.
Craters deepened, body pulsed, and liquid passed.

This time
I cried again.
a joyous love,
for her, for him, for me.