Whisperingly, Whimperingly Singing To Me, Blind
for Lenora Di Saverio

Whisperingly, whimperingly singing to me, blind,
through the lightless halls of stifled air,
you lock yourself in the mausoleum of my mind

where ethereal steps depress a shifting floor of signed
away dreams graven in fears, which double-dare.
Whisperingly, whimperingly singing to me, blind

among the screams of live-tombed hopes in walls aligned
with the bruising echoes of my riven tear,
you lock yourself in the mausoleum of my mind

where, blighted by my past clock’s self-wind
you’re reborn in your nowing force to share.
Whisperingly, whimperingly singing to me, blind.

Wasped in spite you whip your arm and the wind
you break waves a moment’s light of your halo-sheer care.
You lock yourself in the mausoleum of my mind,

my breath-broken mother, ungravely given to maligned
mourning draughts of nada’s laughing eye-pinning stare.
Whisperingly, whimperingly singing to me, blind,
you lock yourself in the mausoleum of my mind.

Marc di Saverio resides in Hamilton, Ontario. His poetry has appeared in Misunderstandings, The Toronto Quarterly, Modern Haiku, Haiku Scotland and Maisonneuve Magazine. He has published two chapbooks: Sanatorium Songs (Cactus Press, 2010) and The Sleeper in the Valley and Other Translations (Cactus Press, 2012). He is currently working on his first novel and his second book of poetry.

di Saverio will appear as part of The Art Bar Poetry Series next Tuesday, October 15th, 8pm, at The Black Swan.

** This poem appeared in The Toronto Quaterly (April 2013).