“Amen”
A ghost floats through the rotten parlor;
Shadows on the yellow wallpapers; in dark mirrors arch
Our hands’ ivory sadness.
Brown pearls stream through the dead fingers.
In the stillness,
The blue eyes of an angel open up like poppies.
The evening is also blue;
Our hour of death, Azrael’s shadow,
A brown garden darkens.
Links:
[1] https://www.ablemuse.com/digital-books-17/v17/digital edition/Complete Digital Version of -/Able Muse, Print Edition (Number 17), Summer 2014