The bare bones

There is dark matter
           and there is the beauty
of flesh on the bare bones
           the one sustains the other
We call fish the flower
           of the sea and judge all else
by the rose standard
           Spring is upon us
and notice how the birds
           have changed their tune

There is nothing abstract
           about life or poetry
and all things point
           to an origin and to an end
the process is what lies
           in between : displacement
and the acquisition
           of a certain knowledge

And talk of timeless
           means for the time being
the bird in the hand
           the bare bones of love
dark matter
           for the time being

John Lyons