the evening is quiet
some kind of afterlife
no one speaks
nothing is speaking
but you listen all the while
even in the shades of the lapping
of the waves of the river and its rinsing hush...
he's quiet now
footsteps behind me in the room
no one has gifts
everyone is breathing quickly
are we heading for the races
the look of failure
and faintness
on faces
pull the protecting blue blanket tight
can you hear me?
the shape of your face
is a faint trace on panes
my breath in the night
pull the blankets tight
the sound is the same
retuning and returning
like hammers that beat
out dreams until you're
too unclear
puddles rippled forever
disturbed by evil forces
instead of a beautiful clear reflection
something comes slow and quick hiding behind spears
and breathes into you something like knives
dead and clear
meant to leave you with some hollow space inside
to fill with doubt
magically
to follow evermore
even in the afterlife
exchanged for pain
never make bargains like that again
even as the waves lap
the sap flows
some new life shines
glossy morning banks
here in a
new afterlife.
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