in my blacks

symbolic old coats

my black coat flaunts its stains
as variations on its dark plain. I
am clad in shifting shadow,
sky clad black, matching
clouds of waiting rain, in

my coat of many inks, no unity
in its thick wool folds,
within I am dirty - no downfall
will banish my guilt or filth
my mask is tight black, criminal

but, at black's most distant rim
(colour hums a null and void)
I find my mark, with mid-air wings
I will not join its frail flight
though rapt I am, in my blacks,
of coat, mask, soul, air -




Note: this poem is a lipogram. No e.