OUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED

You wanted to concoct a monody 

On a dead-end highway In an 

impossible springtime Your gravity 

your counter-hell Wreaked the  

restless angles of your mind. You  

turned back into letters As you 

brought to yoke the ancient

nothingness In the wind of 

myth, In a flock of time, And 

your thirsty mirrors lynched 

the shadow of a bridesmaid.

I've told this to no one else, 

How the traces of your blond 

Preside over a thimble full of 

light,How a crack in the fetid sky

veers