Every image is disguised under normal circumstances- Now, to be extraordinary Sleep must fall like ash -blot the sky And then a strange medicine will arise, blind and blessed As if a clock-face were some lunar arc -her name is Celeste The secret is in words which murmur; while lying, prone to doubling up lithe, nearly unconscious long slumber as smoke from a gun, placed by the hip - not eyes - in grace Pupils closed, to cite... ...owl, owl of agony with a dark stare which winds upwards Owl with butterfly wings Peacock left, a gatekeeper's right To close beneath the night gale's whispering Why so soundless, vision, when carrying this message of loss? A song would be appropriate for a night bird flying Danger soaring past the scene Past walls, God, scent, Past jasmine... Awakening is like the new flame Flicker uncertainly Unconvinced Yet the owl spoke true- She left me that day