the life he lost was sinew, heart and bone
that evanesced like whispers in the dust
the common thread, the hidden allophone
paroxysms of gallantry and lust
she sang her sweet cabal and twirled her heir
the one inherits while the other plots
the first executive, the last au pair
with blots and splotches, full-on ocelots
when they knew me, their hope was stars and whey
envisaging the amative to fly
another quote from stein or hemingway
the hunger that no words can satisfy
all emptiness and echoings, unsung —
the ghosts of what was life and love, and young
