MAUDLIN MAWS▪︎Poetry (3)

8. Dispatch of me lady, please

I'd have wished to be ill with a torment of the body
Strained legs aching sternum
Anything but mental
And I'd wished to be tempted by death
The limp wiff of zestless air and unequivocal consoling hanging over my chest like a passing hand of comfort
A soothing resolution remaining there closer than any pair of hands
It tells me well
The breath pending by dismay faint
The voice dulce a pose of bitter pending leading the accurance to a hazy narration

'Oh child I wish it was true
I would have carried your woes
Heavy as they come
Teary eyes cherry bum sweetheart
I would have offered solum and took venom from your bones

Yet as much as I'm called the soft mercy by the living
Your autumn leafs have not yet slumped my path
Yours are buds and sprout masses of honey announcing a heyday acme; fresh radiance of high shinning juvinility

My coming is still on its way
Dowyard a bay a hill a verdant dale that will be looking at your spirit
I will be standing
Until the skin of your heart reaches a verve a heaviness your pulse wouldn't be able to keep up with
Until heat becomes glossed wax of such a waining cold candle can be
I'll be there giving you a mellow shoulder to sink into

Child...there your pain would be deserving of me
By virtue
Death doesn't bargain twice with a woman's suffering'

15 September 2022