around your body in dust.
swallows starve, cracked windowsills,
as sunlight courts the trees
with lies too intimate to be…
cobwebs refracting daylight’s passing,
snails burp in disgust…
always, only, the scent of your trail!
while somewhere old milkmen
die in horse drawn graves.
and dead soldiers dance
in a world drawn of shadow.
red wine, pipe tobacco,
curling in plumes…
the cat on the ledge waits,
a tongue etched in claw!
are we gunshots and sirens?
flood waters on the rise?
books throbbing with heat…
bodies waiting on the pyre?
turning points, and water,
boiling on the stove?
wind blown curtains startle…
i awake, alone!