As daylight tore away the empty streets
women fingered their jewels,
and almond scented wrists begged
for whitest sleeves to press against.
We whispered riddles to ourselves
that only oracles could understand.
It seemed you and I
were the speaking out
of faith to faith.
I knew then
your suns and designs
and the truest tales of our mothers
that challenged the twisted boy
mourning trumpets he could never play.
One of our lips parted
and the most reckless anthem of the wise,
a vast ruin unlawful yet kind swept
up among the blackened boom
of space's morning eternal.
Nathan Woods, editor/overlord