Eyebranches

First like amber leaves they will be drawn gently over our frantic heartbeats. Like curtains we’ll be drawn toward them.  The arching bones which hold in place the vaulted ceiling of the earth will blink with rain, like threads reaching up to an architect’s unstitched heart.   Then the drowsy blinds will open.  

We face a dark stage, where the hollow body of our own words is the only, fatalistic sound.