Guitars have died, the strident violins
Have hushed away defiant strings,
Their agitation kept vibrating in the
Perfumed air against the reddened fingers.
It was all petals, mortal white of lotus
And delicately pink of blooming buds
To sting and suffer in the cold and sail
Into the hands of a fortuitous stranger.
I saw you by the banisters,
your face brushed by the light
and stretching across the opening
gates of universe,
a shifting mold
on the wetted window glass.
Duality of our sins is no longer
Smeared with awkward innocence
Like stained and swollen lips;
The river ate away the summer,
Silent watchmen leave
To guard our convoy ferries,
While we kiss each other's eyes
Forget and meet
Beneath high-ceilinged twilight.