Aspen season

I)

00:18: It’s over –

the rain stopped, finally.

The night’s gotten too cold,

she shivers (it must be

aspen season already).

–

She shakes

off water drops that

have collected beneath

the folds of her

many, many eyes.

–

The water drips down and

she breathes a sigh of

relief – a night breeze,

soft and sweet and a little bitter.

I think, it’s really over.

–

II)

00:19: Clang –

broken glass or

porcelain, maybe?

No, it was the moon.

She fell off the sky.

–

She fell to pieces:

how beautifully they glimmer

as they drift in

a tiny puddle of dirt –

what an odd wishing well.

–

I light a cigarette

and make a wish.

–

III)

00:20: Smoke fills the kitchen –

I don’t open a window.

I just don’t know how

to let go of things.

I let it fill the empty space

–

he left behind (along

with an empty promise:

see-through and

revenant like a ghost or

maybe just a nightmare);

–

all the emptiness

seeping out

of the walls, the sockets,

blue and quiet

like electricity.

–

IV)

00:21: Clang –

louder this time, almost violent.

I feel a breath

in my neck, a cough:

sour and stale.

–

I blink, splinters in my

shivering hands (it must be

aspen season already):

Your promise – it lies in pieces and

finally, I can even see it:

–

Tiny holes in the dark like

fresh cuts that won’t stop bleeding.

—