arrhythmia arrives
transition is imminent
her gaze leaves me as
malignancy steals all
her body splays
upon sterile concrete

Donne’s prideful death
scores its hollow victory
clocks in measured tempo
stop in Auden’s verse
the refrain: do not go gently
I cannot look away

innumerable days of joy
made sacred by her breath
blessed with reverent kisses
her divinity ever present
while I worshiped fervently
in limestone temples of art

I build architectural wonders
that never embody her grace
my language dissipates
fireflies drop from the sky
in the gravitational pull
of a singular evening star

unraveling supernal supplications
all my pleas for restoration
disintegrate, reality wins the day
nothing reaches this anguish
ethereal noctilucent clouds
limn now infinite skies

my hands cup her head
offering every lifeless thing
created in nuanced colors
I cannot set right with love these lines:
She is dead. Enunciated, echoed,
denied, and without recompense.