Alchemisland

In flawless forest scrying yon gushing torrent, youth’s fountain

Which can reduce my abhorrent wounds to scrapes

Borrowing health from tomorrow, implanting into today

I know not the ways and hidden sympathies

But I have overpaid in blood given and taken

I crawl to the marble lip, fingerpainting the sill with myself

I recline on its side, on my side

Like a drawn sylph in mica and moss quilted.