Damaging,
her death had been
to the life that stayed
roiling in the rain,
ravaged under the blue
of unwanted
morning.
I’ve envisioning
a path
made from colorless
stones.
I’ve leaving
these coming years
up to
the weight of tears.
Who hears me,
carrying a heart
chiming a symphony
made of grief?
Who follows me,
while darkness
strays in every
liquid direction?
Buildings fall,
curtains cover
the spots
where a blizzard
left its deposits,
its spaces
to drag a finger.
I’ll write
my wearying name,
erasing a story
for as far as I walk.
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