Departure
Sirens slung
Pointed slits of sound
Into the smoke-wrought air
And aching rods
Spat flame.
The ravenous mouth
Of distance
Spread its lips,
And you were gone.
My day is mute –
I am a violin whose tortured strings
Crave an unbroken bow –
Hollow as lyrics
Strummed on blanching trees.
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