Grains of rice gather above like toy clouds.
Bleary eyes collide, an inescapable distinction.
They draw each other’s names in the sand
Clipped between overlapping hearts.
Love is the soul of all consideration.
Orpheus follows his wife into the meantime
But he cannot bare her, the thought of her
Not there, in the dark, a mere simulacrum.
He draws on faculty but his lyre deafens.
A proximate memory, a curse, preserved
Behind peeled eyelids and charcoal grin.