Rooster in the Night No. 2
The shallows in earnest, candles sputter,
burn molecules might fuel extra hours not to be.
Ears ring, cheeks turn pink
imagining my love imagine me.
She chants the song of her soul these forty-nine days
I sit with the urn, cry stars into her ashen sky.
The valley of shadows disorders time
as I fumble prayer beads.
My thumbs sense a scuffle to take earthly leave,
hurtle away on cinnamon and blue bardo wings.
Funneled through dusk’s gray cocoon melee,
untethered, a radiant silk moth dawns past mourning’s crow.