ELECTRICITY

Pour out the visions from 
a retrograde transparency,
The ceiling is casting you in its 
greyness
The voices of the multitude 
crashing down onto the mud like a knock on the door that never opened,
We would be running. 

There are echoes of a forgotten prayer
Burned into the skin of a cradled newborn, 
Pushed aside like a blade without a handle, the cars were stationary, the roads were blank,
Purged by oblivion's tears

I heard the song you were screaming,
We were not far from the colder mornings
I was still chasing the serpentine scales of a verse much feared among the anointed, 
Not your whispers in the depths of misfortune

There was a purple night, 
A misplaced songbird, 
Thirteen mangoes falling onto a headline
Crosswords and red cups, 
An unfinished puzzle, 
Large windows on the sixtieth floor, 
The tears were not mine, 
They were the steps out of an endlessly cloudy morning, 
Out into the black sun's voiceless howls.