there is a clock that has started
its slow sighs sign the canvas
hanging in her heart
winding wild ribbons
around the worlds they used to frolic in
before the distance gave them away
before the deep colours of sunset stopped rising
before the cracked mast of their final shipwrecked moments
there was a time you reminded me of summer
and the heavy air of the city we lived in
as black butterflies descended
in slow spirals from buildings
even blacker still
as heralds of the lunatic night myth
she saw his face again
in the still waters at her feet
perfect again
for just a moment
and then in resentment the soft snow falling
is lost in dark water cold waves crashing
where are you?
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