The coarse ink of lies soaks your brief happiness.

A gusty wind shivering the window grills

came to a standstill.

A few straws of hay

mess the little room;

A streak of faint light comes on and off my silence—

The broken beats.

Your illness finds shelter in the purple glow.

The dusky birds find their way toward the impending darkness

as the shrikes and screams faint into endless shades.

Let the words, too, flow away with the dark waves

on this summer evening.