I watched her playing those bells
and suddenly I was all tears.

four silver instruments, two in each hand
and then the green icing melted and
so did I.

spring didn't wait, but summer went in for the kill
slashed my throat and skewered my heart
with a railroad spike,
fed it to the crows.

summer went on and on this year,
it had long teeth and was savage and lazy,
and the only thing I thought
I could do, to stave it off,
was to head to the stars.

Sirius, the eye of heart of the Flame,
and Suhail, much lauded spectral gem of southern skies
Mars, though not a star, moving where he would
Neptune gazing warily from her place in the east
I let what passion was left
flow like a river of stars into a careless sky.

'After all the loves of my life,'
I thought, but by then there was nothing
not even the ache left by lack of love
the kind of feeling so empty it can mutilate you
while you sleep.
'love-obsessed,' another poet had said once
but now there is not even an ache or shadow where love was.

the world was dark and I waited for summer to end.

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