I'm in some black shop,
building a coffin for my lover.

Each upright must be perfect,
bubble in the level centered

between red lines -- steady,
middle of storm, moon full,

exactly midnight, current gone
in deep pool, stopped at the middle,

dark, still, cool. Casket lid
must be aligned, tight fit --

able to shut out the past,
a whole stream of memories.

Painted onyx, deadline late June,
wide enough for two.

Timothy Pilgrim