A silence that once
occasionally passed
by on the street,
while stars were sharing
their chilly, distant grief,
has decided to visit tonight.
It followed the traces
of hours turned to carrion
and joins me at my table.
Here is the only teacher
I have left. It reveals
to me why the sky
doesn’t matter
to me anymore,
proves that no words
will go with me, and eases
the tedious ending
of my anatomy.
Published in in Black Lily (Issue 2)