Cu
Evening fire
as the gloaming fades
into true dark
and the deepening
velvet
reveals the the
presence of other suns
and orbiting
satellites.
Companionable silence
among the crackle of
pine
from the Welsh dresser
of your grandmother's
the deep heavy exhale
of the oak table
your mother's holly
candlesticks, whistling.
Look!
A flare of green from
an old box
the pewter goblets, the
copper headband
you wore in the
woodland ceremony
on our petal-strewn
wedding day.
My ring doesn't burn
but distorts
as your cotton summer
dresses
send plumes of ash
underlit with orange
into the sky.
And the accoustic
guitar he gave you
sings its last melody.
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