Our Ruins 

 

A charred earth snaps awake

with each step backwards

against smoldering underbrush.

 

Look through these temporary angels.

Forget your given name.

 

From the sky,

cut paper petals return

as ash grey butterflies.

 

Descending figures,

briefly visible, vanish

without warning.

 

To a home silhouetted by fire

follow torn lines

through blackened trees.

 

Breathe

as evening breathes.

 

Open albums,

dreaming leaves-

only fragments remain.

 

We belong to a lifetime

of letting go.

 

 

(Originally published earlier in 2016 at Dead Snakes)