metonymy4u

To become dust first overturn the spring,

make

it broker distress and taste the portent
we worked our whole lives for,

succulent,
like the dawn drawn
tall as a birthday candle and
made indelible ink

in honorable fire.

Now I can collect words which
otherwise might have been lost to tide and desire.
I can sound them to their depths
and examine the branch to the root—
bees in a state of alarm,

Bartok dead a penniless wreck.

You frustrated
the image I’ve always had of myself.

How quickly dust creeps into us.
A darling romance.
Smoke within smoke.