The Price of Death

Stoned from the middle eye

centered in a suspension of mercury

and sifting through dune darkness

the combustion as medium

hits a point of placid aquiescence

in the tornadic antigravity of

motionless space.

Under bathwater rain,

you hold back the river

with a bolt from the blue.

More than the altruistic levity of a wistful recline

we change and are changed

waiting for a resurfacing that cuts through the cyclone.

The burial used to commemorate them,

looks

at

through

and into,

still,

unobtrusive,

and cosmically undisturbed.

 

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