In memorandum:
a thousand lilac flowers
tremble, late summer, calling wolf,
call home.
Wet winds thrush through,
our hands and feet, collecting
river water, so cold,
is this the song,
the gods play lutes for?
And we were lost. Sound
so loud, the crashing of the waves,
king of the wavering ships,
king of the lighthouse, blinking.
Our faces pressed into the copper
of coins spent in decadent times,
when […]