I’ ll love you both before and after death.
She rots like a November blackberry.
The churchyard’ s ruined but he’ s in no hurry,
he gives hours to her because she’ s barely drawing breath. Still she desires him passionately and pleasure makes him gruff,
his coat protects her from the cold, the sharp rain flurry:
I’ ll love you both before and after death.
She rots like a November blackberry. Her carpet is rotted poplar leaves, her flowers are thistle fluff
umbels of parchment, one red leaf left on a tree:
he kisses and drinks her tears, tears make her ghostly she suffers in the shine of sunset, suffers both gnats and moths: I’ ll love you both before and after death.