“Come – let me drag you out of the abyss,”
Only small, white shuttered windows remain
     of the giant fortress that was your grief
As the last, secret grayness whispers
over the pavement like a single, lengthened breath
     drawing with it the cracks in the street,
     the green of leaves,
     the iron bands that hold the wooden slats
         of benches
         into one
         smooth surface.
Gone are the rail tracks but their even shadows,
The pigeons but their naked cooing,
The line of hills that marks
     the farthest point that eyes can see to.
The sun sets beneath you – like a wild prairie sun
     that blazes in the tall grass but a moment

Only one row of perfect, white teeth
     and in one, single flash
         of night
     They’re gone.