Deaths Figure Sentries A Look That Could Kill Poem by Mark Heathcote

A summer ghost, fragrant as an orchid
turned my head in wonder and surprise
as the summer effaced turned watches frigid
it's now that I tremble, my teeth, incise
they're engraved with a cold winter's chill
eyes adjusting, they freeze their silent loch
deaths figure sentries a look that could kill
wraith my heart, now, like a dead windsock
summer on my shoulders takes her absence
as this oddity penetrates my soul
I'm left, beseeching myself in captions.
All I see, all that I feel isn't whole.
Suddenly, as he appeared, he was gone-
in his black-cloaks-wake, a carrion crow flew on.