Fixed in her hands there's a trembling fear She's sailing to dimmer mars with nervous gears She is full with a marching of clocks Ticking discovery through the gate Now on the lawn she spilled like infinity Floating along on her bright olive skin I felt the lost in the braille on her lips It's reading the surfacing breath Lovely seconds with her drift from me The hooded in watchful gaze Now she has left here Place here with proxies to pale English rose Lower her gently down on the stairs In the borders of deepening earth you have been creeping there Buried oars Bitter froth wine her mother's tears drip Severed young servants will sift past her lips Poised in the stars are the stirrings of fools cresting the inward hills