Underneath the Baby.

Ultra violet light,

Shot through into Night -

Essentially a Red Flame, in the present

Rock Bels of White,

Defining the Sight

A Relentless Pouring over of Him -

all seemed to be the same

as that which I had left before - Might

be the Fumbling and the Wrenching of

the Heat,

the Listening of a Neat

& Tidy Make-up of Dove,

White wings gently flap together,

Love.

Sings like a distant Harp,

He is the Faraway Note of

the Larks Breath -

the Soaring of the Swallow Tails'

Beautiful Angle,

A Snakes Strangle of

Fright - Eyed Terror

As Love spills its Truth so close

to Death

& Dies softly to White Flower.