Farrier

fumid exhalations
crass as the swordsman of sunlight
whisp across the wands of windowed ray
chocking dense and acrid

supporting himself with a crippled stance
and braced it takes no little strength
to eschew the decorative commissions of ephemera
and live an artisan from arcania

closely woven faces advance from dark opaque backgrounds
through the dark tides of age
are bound in sisterhood
and honour their son
forever to be together
together in eclectic dreams
with only the air for a swaddling cape
and a labour robe the same
and a summer frock and winters bitter frame
and a winding sheet the same
the invisible quilt of love
is patched around the nothings of the spaces
and its history and places is full with the tension
of vague existence beyond the touching
hammerings of here and now
in clarity street way down the end
like a gutter geraldine singing
and her echo in the round
coal voices as clear as the bells of ely
on a bitterframed morning
that cascade the flats and the marches
and the burrows and the furrows
and the flocking odd left plover
yearn for a land of choice
with no false shame to crush eclectic dreams

and in that sea of clammering sound
clipped and scar clad arms are swinging
like bells and tolling one on one
or manyfold that wave and sing
into to the hallows of yesterday