The last moments
float on unspilled words.
I will give you a call―
from body to body,
to reach my voice― across the time,
zones and history.

You wouldn't dream me.

I'm not ready to give up. A
moth takes the flight― strikes
a hot teardrop shaped light bulb.
Brick walls hold back the sea.

The rage attacks a black sun?

Why do you think of
vanishing without a cause?
Hairless the moon cries.

Pink peony waits for the
sick gods.

Vocal cords vibrate.
No vowels come out. A naked
speech becomes museum.