Matchstick Heart

Suspended one thin inch above the dust
The Lord said 'Rise!' and raised our spirits up
And thus it was we came to crawl, to stand
With hearts and minds and souls of moulded sand.

To you, my love, in lands of unforgiving sun
That beat upon an endless hollow drum
Of nerves and sinew stretched and over-strained
And stained with sweat and pain and opium.

Why in that place where no green rivers bend
Where noble and ignoble ribbons wend
Why in your deserts so few mercies flow
While hatred winds do blow and blow and blow?

And here out-stretched on windows of thin ice
Your fair-haired daughter and your fairy-wife
Ne'er dare to flinch, lest devil's savage pinch
Should pluck and plunge us from our fearful vice.

O you, a chandelier in my ballroom-soul
Reflected light unto my corners cold
You altared me - unveiled a fairy tale
To have and hold, but never to unfold.

And where? And when? And who? And how?
Brave comrades bead upon their brow
Your chin one inch above the dust
Then, in that land of sand and rust
Beads of sweat to beads of blood
Scattered there dry husks of love
Shattered there by desert stones
Your soft and gentle matchstick bones.

Suspended one inch above the dust
The Lord said 'Rise!' and raised our spirits up
And thus it was we lay to crawl to stand
With hearts and minds and souls of moulded sand.

Suspended one thin inch above the dust
The matchstick heart, suspended thus.