Twelve Tolls

This poem describes sorrow at the start of my new year.

Toll for my heart,
One, two, three,
Hear my steps,
Click, clack, click,
And catch me,
My belltower’s stoop.

Wipe my tears with air,
Chill my bones with love
Be my bed, a bed to sleep,
Like a blankey mother wove.
But you are my scar,
A scar, a smile derived.
But my love, are you not?

O four, o five, o six,
Toll for her, toll for my loves!
Or love that has seen my face…
Has love always been indeed?
Then be loves, I love,
Be the pauper and I the stoop.
Tock, tick, tick, tock.

Toll for him! And eight,
To nine he who thine loves,
Yet love is love to fit?
For a bed is a bed is a bed,
One bed, one blanket,
No loves to love one soul
Yet he is whom you think, seven.

And last three tolls, Devil tolls,
Force this river to dry,
Let my tears take thy heart away,
And air to fill my throne,
And love to be undone.
And toll the bells,
And toll the bells from the stoop.
To spook with my belltower’s stoop.

January 15, 2006