I would have loved you after any death.
Your face became victim to turbulence,
a violence so tangible that everyone wept
in their way of weeping. We had to learn
love again, not just in tone but style;
and it struck us like lighthouses stripped
of land and civilization.
& as billions
of blooded souls beat restless; you became
unfamiliar with their pulse.

In the Pacific we drifted towards a sea
easterly creatures &
mammals with ancient tongue
bubbling cacophonies
feeding orchestras & the sparrows
migrant wings.

In the rubble there was moonshine &
worries of fleeting passion. Never a kiss;
but our hands melted in candied innocence
and baguettes of buttered light.
passengers on plum waves
stars pillory astral prisoners

many mornings gone
I am sorry for your pain.