I saw the designs of the dead
held between your eyes
and I thought it was my emptiness
instead
we left with sand escaping our hands
that was strangely timed
to a world of surgeons donning their masks
and saying "Let us cut in."
I broke my eyes
to see with granules of fragments
around the sight of sighs
and yellow road signs.
I broke my ear drums next
to deafen the traffic of words
so instead
I could remember the sounds
of your thinly veiled white lies
that said with love,
"That was the dead between your own eyes."
And autumn, and winter, said
"Shhh. They'll rise in eastern oceans
humming a song instead
to fragments of hearing and those lovely dead
that were between hers and your eyes."
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