Shadows dapple
slats of fence
from years ago when we loved.

Afternoon then was longer than morning
today. Evening came quickly.

I see stars where none were birthed
by God. Brilliantine cold skies
lighter than helium press my
chest.

Is this memory? Residual
love tattered at edges despite
time.

The universe or I am
swelling, searching
for nothing. Anything
but whispers.

Ā© Chagall 2016