dazed, like clouded cataract eyes
numbed in screen-locked stares
into the jazzless, encysted abyss;
inert, pure history.
the smell of wet cement never known
nor simmering images, of white auroras
streaming like confetti
twinkled rose and toasted white
in the hot jerusalem sun.
queues of souls waited forty days
each for their moment of danger
the seas warmed, black phaetons clattered;
she ripped so effortlessly into the room
like a five alarm phone call…
never to be answered