But no one’s there.
Not even your beautiful children.
You moving over bridges,
You turning with canals.
Your own resurrection is occurring.
You feel the alchemical shift in your blood.
You’re glad they’re not here now.
You’d have to look in a mirror, make yourself beautiful.
whispers of the dead, breath of the dead.
The dead inside your very self.
It’s been almost four years since you took it out of its box.
You wonder why you did today.
Your cries make her cry too.
The whole of your heart, acknowledged.
Even though he died almost four years ago.
At least that’s what you thought had happened.
You were there
When the light flooded the bedroom and stole him up, up, up.
Here they are, you see them clearly now.
Patterns of the water, thinly spread for miles.
There she is, sprawled on the white leather seat.
Everyone watches the city floating.