Sorry sight. Buried eyes,
sheltered under smokey
clouds. You are red
in those sunsets, burning
in those funeral homes
full of mirrors,
that keep you looking
in past directions.
Love lost you,
while you take backwards
steps into rediscovered,
uncovered memories.
Light has left you
washing your eyes
in heavy waters,
lifting blocks, called ships,
drawing imperfect circles
for your age.
Give one tear over.
Save another year, leftover,
while those waters are
parting for your feet,
to walk over. Do not sink.
Do not wade through
histories, if only
to see horizons like
crossing out your name.
Another gust for your sails,
with another breath,
without another session
making love with death.
I’ll hold your arms open,
displaying your wings,
unbroken. I’ll send a kiss
to your vacant lips.
I’ll row your boat,
smoothing these waters
without much needed sound
to connect all around.
Modern Romanticism 