I cannot rage against the dying of the light-
rage against the tide
the callous or the morning
//
Early doors, she the veiled beauty glides
Black silk in ribbons over palest skin
And the dimple of a hip joint.
the finest fingers veritably ravel
back unto the spool.
//
Essence, fury, love, and loss alike
I cannot rage against such a sweet and private thing,
this one- frayed- assemblage,
nor in it’s gentle undoing
Chrisalides in batches over a steaming night
Allow the knots of our cells to soften
Yielding gossamer to the dying of the light
The Humdrum Epicurean 
6 responses to “Bombyx mori”
I see I am not the only poet to refer to other poets, though you to Dylan Thomas and me to William Blake.
LikeLike
Nothing like a prophet engraver nudist romantic Londoner to get the blood pumping 🙂
Urizen is one of my all time faves
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful flow of words 🦋💙
LikeLiked by 1 person
My thanks, Anita!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure, Gardener!
LikeLike
Beautiful writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person