If only we hadn’t rushed headlong into things,
the notes of our score might still be intact.

The requiem blew right off the high-rise, a stray
flock of birds from the wires by the sugar refinery.

Entwined, we caressed in a single fleshless breath.
A house of stone filled to overflowing, then burst.

It began to rain again. I listened to two pigeons
cooing in our cul-de-sac and fed them the tears.