ashes call to him

grey

everything is grey

he emerges from it as if it were a fog

tangible  swirling off him like smoke or vapor  or an emitted radiant heat

there is something small in his fist

he cannot open his hand

he cannot feel what it is

following him out of the greyness 

an intent woman walks 

as if she followed him in

he turns to her approach

                                            she is outlined  haloed  etched  as if by hoarfrost

his hand trembles and begins to relax

he extends it to her

she takes his hand in both of hers 

he feels an electricity   vibrations

his hand begins to open  as if geared or mechanical 

and on his palm

a brilliant white slip

she takes it from him

                                       and with a slender fingernail she catches its edge

it accordions open

unfolding larger and larger

realised 

she reads it and weeps

and smiles

she embraces him

she does not say what she has read

holding him in her arms

the grey cloister rents and splits

it sheers into loose sheaves

shot through and veined blue

embracing  they are slightly above the ground 

and all around them seethes colored translucent space

1405,  Wednesday,  15  6. 11