You are folding the flowers

into glowing stamps,

taking all the humming circuits

into a hidden center,

tugging my strands of life and death

with you into radiant abyss,

cleft by a pierced shadow,

linking my bones on fire.

You paint the rags

that hang from metal trees

in a twilight courtyard.

I stand with my mouth open

stuck to all the flaking ages

flying past

hoping the hot sight

lasts.