There she is.  And it's all

taken from me

now.  Her alternate

rides the sky

of a time

we don't know.

That's passing here.

Frost fried leaves

floating past the doorway

of a sunken temple,

its purple and

white green moss,

enchantment of bronze tinted

shadows.

She's left a throne

glittering and empty

in there.  The sea

doesn't howl

but the windows

wail.

I'm in the railyard's

rusty peak

where the old cars

crashed.  My lovers past

cluster behind the windshields.

Libraries fail

to catch her

as she climbs

the seething ground

outside my breathing

so far past

their senseless

hands.