The Second 100 Years
We longed for each other
In pursuit of the Sun
In Calvary
Wish bone hung love, saints
Hide their howling faces
Instead of digging up our journeyed foot prints
Places crystals to bloom
Spells contained in pots
There remained an ornament used for catching wisdom
A dried up snail shell which wept graces unkept
Dead and dying now
Old and older still
It replaced an amulet for catching snakes
An imitation of wounded whales
We’ll experience more deaths under these trees
And the garden was established years later under a dawn of bricks
The arch of their youth having collapsed and exposed many certificates, incomplete armistices, and a photograph
Proof of God
Purified by their longing
Invulnerable to time
Other men could have become captives of those chestnut trees
And after two consecutive sun sided turns
The box of all that I had given was harvested by fall
A hunger atoned what fullness could still be prayed for