Yesterday’s Illusion

Motionless beneath the sky

nothing moved and neither

did we in our lake of black wine.

Salt tears that had moistened

our passion became desiccated,

soaking into our souls, reflecting

melting silence and rippled peace.

Aged timbers spanned our rivers

in interlaced whispers of rigid spines -

a death-like mourning dew

forming ocean for angels alighting.

Wolves howled elegies in distance,

symphony of constellations in

nocturnal quiet and weeping streams.

Trespassing reveries of lost moments

peeled our flesh of vanished breaths.

Bodies zipped up in morsels of earth,

crawling in sands of empty arms.

Closer still, we share in our absence

somber memories of yesterday’s illusion.