We covered up every step of the stairs that we fell down.
Erased the imaginary crucifixes from our stomachs. The
Arduous chronicles of our bodies blending in, blending out,
A blur devoid of life. Nobody will imitate our pluvial caresses,
Hear the sound of our distressed voices. Destructive clouds gather
In ceremonious oblivion, presumptious puppets, a flaming nightfall
To narrate our demise and tedious disentanglement, cutting us up
And apart only to refrigerate what is left of us and what we never had.
“Lilies” by Gustav Pope (1831-1910)
