Grace

release the troubled memories that hold you in their bonds,
liberation for our pain and stain for what our merge responds.
grace.  a trace of sweetness.  musky, like dusk, jasmine and saffron.
the thermodynamics of an ancient, urgent heat, action and reaction
as the parabola of kisses misses nothing worth mention, intention
sown and reaped, moistures seep and weep and keep the tension
barely bearable.  I communicate a wordless poetry in surrender,
tender as a sacrifice to a price for bartered beauty, defender
of that which has already been given in chaste clarity and charity,
a gift to the magi who imagined us as spirits of inescapable verity.
hold nothing back not even the blackness and I will not slack
in my prescient tense of what you desire and require, no lack
of ardour and all my amomancies have become apprenticings
to your escape from the grey to lay claim to all your whims and wings.


William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.