Twilight Graveyard

Memory's a divine adaptation,

when elation duels with granite tombs –

the eyes and hands like rainbows dissipate,

fly with armless angels.

Elsewhere, the history of the world

weeps for its own dust,

the common that trudge above it,

unsympathetic, ordinary,

as diaphanous as death.

I wrap my arms

and bend you my way,

the squeeze of anxious hands,

knowing too well

ungrateful bone and flesh...

it cannot hold forever.

I join you, therefore,

in perpetual mist,

in rapturous chains,

in grand delusion,

in fragile, inflamed fragments,

a ghost through ghost cities -

I want no world that comes with me alone.