Cousin, I Feel Your Fleece in Passing

Here in the woods
with the tangly vines
where we dug our fort
and wed our minds’
you as Billy, and Emily, me
with our locks entwined–

for the searcher’s key
was somehow lost.
It was up to us
to go hot and cold
all through your house
where you first met Poe
and invited your girls
to cross the bridge
to the Land of Curls,
where Blakeian beasts
and Keatsian lambs
cavorted in
their iambed pens.

Your lilting voice, Billy
echoes through
this house, these woods
and Dublin, too,
from pleasure dome
to Liffey banks–
all’s riverrun–

A thousand thanks
for all ye’d done, Billy,
all ye gave,
O Billy Boy Blue
climb out the grave!

Take one more trudge
with sweet Emily
down Four Mile grove
past Tivoli,
(where methinks yer mother took that key)
beyond the stars
where now ye lie
but never me, Billy Boy,
say “goodbye.”

—Victoria Floor 11/19/2011

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  1. Very Beautuful!

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