33/Rosary of Summer

Stone angels
of the graveyard
are never silent

Hear the frozen cry
of warriors
riding horses of white air

Duel of skeletons
who escort mourners
drinking absinthe
beneath
a blaze of chandeliers:

Always, between pauses
of spoon & speech
this icy personage

that harpoons—
& spits at—
our exposed teeth:

We remember names, signs
our daily aspirin
of acceptable crimes

Stone angels
of the graveyard
are never silent

Their fangs sink
like a drove of vampires

into our windblown
hearts

& tongues

white, dry

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