It’s a water color sky and the bright swath of a winter sunset, sunlight winking between fence slats, treetops swaying softly in the mild wind as I stare into the direction of the break in my heart. The mild day dazzled with a sudden onslaught of shimmery gossamer wings as the season of resurrection skips a few steps. Blood hungry broods of mosquitoes and ascendant clouds of gnats gleam and stot against the lit firmament. Off in the schoolyard, children still shout and play. Air brakes squeal and sigh amid the clamor of afternoon traffic. I tell my troubles to the wind.
The earth breathes deep, rousing nymph and maggot, shaking strange carapaced being out of their pupal drowse, yes anding each arrival. Calling forth the swarms and hordes of the nameless faith of life. Green things stretch and reach, bursts of leaf and bud abound. I am still beside my sad songs and haunted longings while the world just turns and turns. The dusk comes on, exchanging silhouettes and abstractions for life and limb. The dusk comes on, and the world seethes and simmers.
It’s no secret that there’s nothing to me. All ache and infamy, the shook head of circumstance, the red hands of guilt. A burned card as the fresh deck turns over. A relic of the last millennium left idling in a locked garage. I don’t matter, and it doesn’t matter that I don’t. I linger among the number that carry the burden of the bright rejoinder, the whole bleeding pantheon keeping the light shining and the flames going. From the altar of desolation I offer up the help I’ve been handed, tooth, blood and bone given to the continuity. I breathe deep with tainted lungs. The wind takes its time on by.
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