Numbers

Low hum
about this place
tell tale fairy signs
a greater problem they are
one that
they deny

We’re abandoned
tighter
than ever
misdiagnosed
alignments as rote

Another wing fell today
captor too small to strike
the raging animal
honest. futile. remote

He walks again
two sticks for hands
crippled
as though he wasn’t there
even as the river rises
he wades into the end

Old wear thin nails
a translucence prettier
than skin
yes countenance waivers
over
time

Your loyalty
self
has gone
I with it too
the autumnal shroud remembers
the fruits of summer
before the worms, before the louse
yet the wet things hang heavy
like gloom

Only shadows decorate your shelves
books stripped of words
written on
heavy paper
impervious
to the cracks


wider now

War paint peeling
reveal
a lonely place
once a
palace
now erased