Lines Written Before Tom's Death
Consider the widow, warbling to herself
Within her funeral veils, alone in that damp,
Dark place where nothing blooms.
She floats outside of herself, sleepwalker
Soothsayer – stepping behind that black curtain,
That indiscriminate pit.
Precious in the sight of the Lord is
The death of his saints –
Consider the daughter, the lilies,
These fanged flowers – together,
Unfurling in the dark.