Passing Delineation

There is a litany for the dead.
The pine box, the urn.
The eyes dilated on the anodized plate growing wider,
Bubble domed tearless sacs, buckshot in the afterglow.
 
Needle knotted on the razed patch- thick thatch,
Black greyish blur,
Dust bunnies on the mirrored floor,
Staining the sterilized situation.
 
And the cries unheard against the staccato drumming fear.
We leave, but you are still there.
In that silence, unexplained -little remains-
Sewn-in fragments-white long feathery antennae that fell.
 
Snowflakes from you,
You are still there in the absence of blue.

Nineteen, Copyright ©2017 Aria Ligi, Mighty Muse Productions, Published in Light Journal Issue Three Solitude