Encounter.

You will come to me in the hour I wait for you.
In the shadow places I will wait.
You will come in green fire
and bloody footprints.
A broken bell in a broken chapel will toll
your arrival.
Your heart will be wrapped in silver foil.
And it will smell whiter than stones over an icy stream.
The perfect gift.
But you will not remember me.
Your eyes will be buried in my sockets.
And the sliver of your tongue between my lips
 will call my name.
The rose of my youth fades to blue.
A hundred bees stung my mouth.
I couldn’t save sweet honey for you.
Still you will come to me in the hour I wait.
This time- you will.
You always do.