my house is full of empty vases and empty hearts. the lights burn brighter than our eyes.
i call for my mother, i plead for her,
but ghost that wears her smile, her apologetic eyes
cannot hear. it cannot feel
i am a discordant prisoner/ and the vase, full of flame
will sink into flakes of the first snow
the tearing of my skin feels something like an unprotected heart
alone in this clean new world
i hear the memory of rain
