4 thoughts on “”

1. Marble Canvas

   Clear and cold. This morning Sir Richard Burton
   lies on his slab where the light of morning
   pours through a marble canvas. His wife lies
   on a lower slab, and all around the pink-pearl dawn,
   flushed, like milk with a little blood stirred in,
   laps in, just as she planned it, just as she pictured it,
   when he said “I don’t give a damn. Just
   don’t put me in the dark.” He wanted to be
   left in the desert or tossed into the sea, he had said:
   but seeing the trouble on her Catholic face, he softened.
   Anywhere, he said. Doesn’t matter. Just not dark.

   • Must have been the words “tent” and “tomb” together that fished this up.

     • I thought perhaps you’d seen my haiku on Twitter this morning, too: http://twitter.com/#!/morningporch/status/102002405150961664

       • Nope! I love the haiku, though.

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