The scene repeats, always with variations—
A gate, a door; the path between, oblique.
As evening masses its mute accusations
and black intrudes on purple's permutations,
a face shows at the pane but does not speak.
The scene repeats, its subtle variations
like patient fingers testing combinations:
A path from gate to door, a door's faint creak
blending with the evenings accusations.
Along the fence, a wild proliferation
of thorn and feral bloom, a funeral reek.
The scene repeats with minor variations—
A floorboard's creak, the hall's slow inhalation,
a presence at its depth—Upright. Antique.
As evening masses its mute accusations,
the moon rises, a gibbous aberration,
and black contracts around one crimson streak.
The scene repeats in all its variations
as evening masses its mute accusations.