Sunder

 

Permanent grins pose while clothing flutters,
desolate flags of nothing. The roars and screams
have faded to dust and clicks, holding the page
wide open. Cue the moans, the thin slices of panic,
the breathless grief haunting each street.

Leave us be.

Our bones want to untwist, align with yesterday's ley lines
that said week followed week into the grey mists of heredity.
Pearl promises crack, chip, crumble in the rubble.
The light floods in, and we float on, hands unclasping
from silver wisp tethers. This pain is for the living.

Now, always.