.
dawn light empties each shallow
cough and dies sagging against memories.
we were a quickened lick
of endurance … now we are
ash, like our brother’s
ash, whether mistake or choice.
once we shared guilt and hope, now
even that shadow has washed out,
gone.
you.
and him.
.
how I will miss you.
how I will long for
our tribe, shattered now.
.
empty houses
surround me, ghost murmurs
and morning light, so painfully
brittle in winter.
.
orphan poems 