Three faces filled this room once

Glossy like a serpent scale catching shining light 

beside the daytime flame, the glass now slowly melts 

as the heat has finally increased.


Ropey pure white again glistens from the top of her 

bottom lip to the tip of the brass hour hand 

of the mantle clock face, behind where once her 

thumbprint laid and has now only dripped away. 

Heart rate bliss and coiled fate tremble 

the muscles in her face now, she turns 

upon her madonna only once more.


The painting’s stayed mostly the same near the 

edge of the frame but where Mary once laid now 

flickers bright with embers, with a sunburst surrounding the scorch 

where before was her face.

As the shapes become obscured behind the light 

and smoke now filling this room, the achromic 

fade sets in: where once she could sit and wait 

and stare and think here, now she only waits; and francis has no fear.

A gift not unlike a present:


For the now unfurled robe

Strikes gently upon

Both pupils that wind round

This room with a start


And reveal sclera white,

So pure was the gaze

Retreating from sight 

Of the new providence.


Now opening each lip

To only begin

To state what a great gift this life is.