SILENCE STIRS THE BREEZE

Silence stirs the breeze. Rivers

extend themselves across the earth.

Once more grey rooftops suckle sunset,

at its core a blazing past.

Before dawn, dust-filled reservoirs

exhale, aglow in silence.

I open my mouth, no ballads.

Bright mirror of early spring

fractured on a crumpled map.

If I can sing still, softly,

it’s because smoke, I believe,

perpetuates, these worried faces

revering death’s embrace.