
gulls fall
red running wild
and each time she blinks
in the grey quicksand skies
a chorus of stars learns to burn from her eyes
ascending trailing beacons
that bore through cold clouds
while her ghost passes darkly
through slow moving crowds
bronze fields of wheat
in a veil of spring rain
he wears her black army jacket
though she never came
the wet sands have stopped singing
fireflies haunt those long dead fields of clover
and all the telephone wires above
hum along loudly in blue with him
in endless protest to her absence
gulls fall.