Some Deny Your Death

Some deny your death under lit night rose,
The call of an undemanding wisdom rakes
Across the altar laid bare in puckish pose.

Though all I hear is what the hangman knows,
The noise, born shrill, that either insurance makes;
Some deny your death under lit night rose.

They know no word of the methadone foes,
They only cover my head, for my body quakes
Across the altar laid bare in puckish pose.

The joy on the wood stick ferry, loves throes
Ebb like the ripples, gentle breaks,
Some deny your death under lit night rose.

Why was perdition unuttered as the ritual arose,
For the ghost from chains in time awakes
Across the altar laid bare in puckish pose.

I feel the cold air shiver through my tattered clothes,
But where are all your lonesome breathe intakes?
Some deny your death under lit night rose
Across the altar laid bare in puckish pose.

© Gary Raymond, July 2005

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