Silences of the Aurora
We sit on cool brick terraces
half-past mortality
in lengthening shade.
Our final passions
are in our drinks
as night swirls overhead
in a wild unleashing of stars.
All politics are platitudes—
all pleasures of flesh
are passing.
Now, we only relish
silences of the aurora,
faint roars of sinking seas
we’ve never seen,
hot mists of dark oceans
soaring toward the sky.
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