In the sound of morning’s brighter silences the breeze you have your fingers
Gone in a love departed long and dearer still for all its distance you use my
Mouth to form words I’ve never spoken, colors in my breathing I haven’t found
That secret sigil hidden far from eyes that see or travelling syncopes and inhallations
I saw a dying doctor sing like a child’s first noise made raw and pure
He warped the sun and lightnings hid away in stones and crevices
“We were the stars alive, together briefly in conflagrations that seemed stable,”
When I rolled the seven dice, five of them shattered.
The remaining two are you
And I