Steel teeth in a serrated sky,
Grey on grey: the town is
Swallowed down a hungry throat
Between ravaged lips that are
Now returned to nature.

There are angels in my past.
They were not really angels,
But they were to me, to my
Tired heart, and that is
Enough. Back then, she would
Have been one too, but now
She is merely the focus of
Brief but lingering attraction.

What we once were is worn
Indelibly into our selves, into
The world in which we
Continue to live even after
Our old lives are spent.

What we are is what is left,
What we managed to salvage
From the fire that cleanses
In the most violent sense
Of the word.

We are intact but fragile
As ash, retaining our shapes
Only for as long as we are
Left alone.

02/25/2020

Posted on 03/02/2020
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince