Sunshine fog clasps hoary glass

Paint peeling like carrot skin

Fallen to the bottom of the kitchen sink

Leaving nothing but the skeleton-cross of 

despondent wood, sorrow like a sailor’s broken mast

Or a cracked sternum crumbling to settled dust

Whispering a song of snowflakes against ice,

a spider of clocks-unwound

weaves a web of fr a ctur’ d panes

like broken promises

and blue veins throbbing beneath paper skin

As battling light sends rays like soldiers

into the night beyond decay

Formations scatter (leaves in the wind) into a scrabble

of a lost language

So

blind eyes turn money-cold shoulders

On a tongue foreign to all but one

decrepit scene

who’s tired arms bone for the wind

whistling a trite tune now unheard

And many times forgotten