on leave

If light declared
the pain
the face
the hat
impassable
in the middle of the night
navigators
around the lotus
would reach for a mehir's
mysterious origin
facelessly
instantly
skywriting would storybook
the edens' wild stairways
to coachwood forests
and avalons of mendacity
would turn into supermarkets
of burnt offerings
the silver rain would fall
into place
the footbridge would hand over
its serentiy
symmetry would go on sale
eroded sandstone would castle
and defend its untitled
weavings with the salt wind
the tale is muttered under the breath in delirious
sailors on leave
on the voyage they know they will never
return from