Transubstantiation, Part III

The title means something, I am sure (besides the textbook definition) but what exactly that is, he hasn't said.

Transubstantiation, Part III

A complicated phase in a greying haze,
alchemy in a flask you asked to hold.
Gold from base metals.
Love in the strangest places.
Faces that melt and run in a sun that shades the moon.
Soon is not enough, yesterday was missed
when we kissed the wind, sinned and thinned our sands
that run between fingers rigid for time.
Blocking fate, finding hate on a grate where heat pours,
scores of opportunities left behind,
blind to the kind chances we cannot rebuild as penance
for a dance of decades irrevocable.
Grief is no relief for the true conscience.


William F. DeVault. All rights reserved.