sister poem

hang no wreath
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
in an old chamber softly lit
softly weeping
splendid and terrible your love
therefore i may not
with joy and wonder
pushing out, struggling vainly
when, full of warm and eager love
so lost
be in me as the eternal moods
musing, between the sunset and the dark
into the silent land
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you