Won't Come

I wanted to tell you how struck I was By the woman from Daugavpils who appeared in the showstone You presented last we gathered at this forum I was struck by the pitching ruel The shards of sidereal damask The shroud of disappearing ice she wore As she was pitching toward the Levant I’d like to see her again in the amber I wouldn’t mind feeling her skin Through lace And smelling wet gunpowder Is her second sight like mine, Kyrios? Is her second sight like mine, you Valkyrie? Will I see my mother and father there? No. No. No I’m ashamed She was brought up Lutheran and we’d never met before I was pitching toward the Levant But crying out always For the owl’s blood In the summer you found cruel Knowing full well I won’t come back I put you deep in the ground