If not for a fragrance in this vacant room

(for Chris)

If not for a fragrance in this vacant room

where mottled memory should sin in rich forgetfulness

I would shade dimly in your vaulted tomb.

Love of self fasts now upon the barrens, ‘midst the gloom

The dusk-daunted hush & cry of twilight would bless

if not for a fragrance in this vacant room.

Above wild cries, the grief-stricken groom

In satiating quiet, remorse ransoms words unsaid, lest

I would shade dimly in your vaulted tomb.

Would not fondness fail in its unending travails, exhume

the bitter-sweet curse of anamnesis, void a fearful tenderness

if not for a fragrance in this vacant room?

Without occult words drawn out upon a poet’s loom

weaving evergreen the failed and lovely, this airy caress

I would shade dimly in your vaulted tomb.

Darkened souls alight, gather fire in the mantling brume

even kissed by power ethereal, it is ever you, I confess--

If not for a fragrance in this vacant room

I would shade dimly in your vaulted tomb.