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
