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Prelude: haiku
Daisies
And flashes
Of a red carpet slipper
Fugue: cleave
| He walks bent over |
His centre of gravity is always |
| Forcing him faster |
Forward as when he used to run |
| But his festinant feet are unsteady |
On gravestones. But now |
| When he reaches the gate |
the way is blocked by rubble |
| His hands are hesitant |
What lies beyond? |
| Turning from the path, he takes |
The serpent's kiss |
| A wide arc |
With fangs that penetrate |
| His red carpet slippers |
Beneath the yellowing surface |
| Buried under the daisies |
Bloodless eyes guide him |
| Without a path back |
to a home of Stone |
Variation: prose
I mumble the names of drugs. They tumble out of my mouth, magic words written on magic pills. What colours? White, green, yellow, red? Can they heal?
I am petrified.
How long can they keep it from me?
One day, when I wake, the pills will be a finger length too far and my hands will not reach them. I will stay stone and watch the days fall from the trees.
Who will come and rescue me?
I’ll feel flies testing if I am dead. The sun, as it watches me lie here, won’t tell anyone because it can’t speak. But if it could speak, what would it say? By Jove, there lies a petrified man? | 
