dazed, like clouded cataract eyes
numbed in screen-locked stares
into the jazzless, encysted abyss.
the smell of wet cement never known
nor simmering images, of white auroras
streaming like confetti
left lavender like a bruised stamp
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