What do violets do, chrysanthemum &
roses when you’re gone, dreaming long
light shadows on the grass, the dog star
high & lonely?
I found love from the prison of my days
her cold arms. We Catholics have Aquinas,
are rational. The protestant founders
on empirical grounds. The eyes close,
whiteness holds the dark & when I’m broken,
fill me with breath & hold me to your suffering.
I like this interpretation. i can’t remember the motivation. thanks
This may not be your motivation for the poem but I had the image of a Monk in the cell himself semihard and wanting to beat, back whip, his arousal out but having the opposite affect!