seeing

Graves everywhere bless and

dot the land, thumbprint ashes 

from the priest, like a bruised third eye.

By the dug earth, is it Beatrice

all in white, all in black, emerald eyes

'La gloriosa donna della mia mente,'

is it her, by the water?

And how could I write the letter

that would matter, now.

Molten eyes, bubbling over

with light, please

do not ever
dilute this picture