Particular Lament

For heaven's door//

resting your head against it// has it

closed another time// how does one

recoup the taste of honey

in these ugly shaded days// I thought

it was

just behind your lips, but you

close them

in the quietest crescendo

we have seen yet// I weep

in many colors// vermillion

has forgotten its particular shade//

a hip curves

in sorrow//everything feels too cold

these days.