lolotehe

It’s lace...
and it’s white
and it’s brilliant
and delicate
the first snowflake of winter
was never so innocent

there’s a tiny gold cross
so impossibly thin
a stab of light
through a keyhole
was never so bright

such pure, brilliant lace
such a perfect gold cross
(a whispered promise was more resilient than this)

What lullaby spell was sung at that moment?
Rock-a-bye, baby, sealed up in the wall
This house shall stay standing while all others fall

His brother picking up the baby, so softly
holding it, so softly
putting it to bed, so softly
His baby brother he picked up so often
The baby he’ll never have
You can’t make a baby from a man
Only from another baby
Only his baby brother,
who makes more money, anyway

his wife coming closer, so pale and so rigid
so coldly confronted with fresh snow-white lace
Facing the golden cross, like frozen amber
the gust of her sight

he kneels in that screaming, frigid, bright instant
the walls fall around him like cold scattered leaves
no shelter is offered; no coat can warm him
and his
whole
body
is
numb…