BACK TO SHEILA FUGARD

I shall not see this mountain again
Nor hold it in my thoughts so diligently
I am where the snow line drops
Still far beneath the naked neck of sky
Where algae meshes with stone
  My soul is sky
My body algae
All weed and sadness
Sinking into the ground
The ache and kiss of flesh
The green glare of grass
This altar cloth
Covers only stone