A Memory Scorned
a memory scorned
it was a different type of silence
long ago
that ate the morning sun
in the cathedral
between the pillars
bleeding into life
you and I
the faint taste of rain on our tongues
a mem..y sco….
wavering over cool roots, unsteady
the wisdom of water
stretching our bodies
into deep cold
pleated hair twisting
towards the light
halos aslant on flat stones
worn by the atmosphere below
a me…y s……
now we drink the night
and pass the moon
between us
in this madness
in this sorrow
in this the cathedral
made of time
within us, eating…
. me…. …….
(alive)
Copyright © Mat Ignacio | Year Posted 2024
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