new poem: the scent of recent petals

the scent of recent petals

spilling wine before swine
the ties of the fork
beat a staccato rhythm
on the perfect crystal vessel
that holds your kisses
in crimson and burgundy
sips and gulps and a cherished
aftertaste to be faced tomorrow

not ruining the reunion
by the counting of the hours
the sixth of seven powers
is the power to dream
and step through them
to do them justice in the real.
sealing the ceiling to wall hope
behind a facade of sad sentience

having been left for dead
in a bed of what was bled and said
when only the moment mattered
I understand the difference between
saying the words and living in worlds
we descend to, lambent as moonrise
in a starless sky of forgotten world
in exile until. until we elect to love.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I will run the final laps of this race beyond my endurance, that my legacy will not be chosen for me, but by me.