Departed

A little boat rocks in the gentle waves near the lake’s shore.
Empty and wooden, the water slapping its curves.

Nearby, the bird’s cage stands unoccupied.
The door is broken, and the colors of stolen light
are spattered on the bars.

Partly buried. They might have become gods.
Or dead. Both were required. A candystand
revelation whose sugars were blood.

On the mantle, the face of the old clock
emits a trinkling sound, and cracks.

The report was the last thing we heard.