"...so he swam, collarless and torn to seek a swift escape from the ceaseless song of crickets; the voice of madness calling. When barely more than quarter of a league had passed he paused and saw again a body floating by the bank. Slender in her dark green dress stood a silent lily, the flower of death and the coffin's call. He breathed slowly..." Peace lily, midnight pool Pale candle, rippled shawl You, your tilted head A weighted flame With nothing but a silken skein for warmth To cover - maybe hide - you 'til the dawn No creature stirs Still you burn so white And seeds are shed as stepping stones To catch the waxing moon That pastel photograph of you Peace lily, midnight pool Green-leaf lover, waterfall How you despised the way your colours ran Yet there was something in the skin Of your reflection after dark To make you watch and wait and wonder As it spun a stem of silver In the wake of parted twilight Like a mirror, after dark Peace lily, midnight pool Ashen eyes, plate-glass pall I return; your head is bowed To tumble down and stare straight past the weeds Where you were sketched on water's edge Vertical and buried, straw-like Snapped by your own hand A broken sceptre crowned in bloodied skies Before the peace And insects' song singing for the wise