After Raoul Schrott

Dark when you came ˙ sky the shade of dying

trees ˙ your voice in the forest was the color of

melting pewter ˙ heavy with impurities ˙ it tasted of

minerals ˙ and when sunrise came

it was upon us like a stream of breaking rocks

˙ or like a vein of newmade silver deep within the

planet’s iron core ˙ our lives

have been quick passages of toiling and

silence all these bitter years ˙ now I am an empty field

of granite ˙ once

it was our own dark bodies ripe against the

broken trees ˙ once it was the leaves falling all

throughout the summer ˙ now they are falling always

everyday