Last Witness

how the light will make us fall, our exclamations withering in our open mouths. they say there is a message in the roar behind you. can you hear it, my loved one? the noise of time smashing into indifference. the unnamed fist that came between us in our scarce-shed youth...
the grit in the wind makes me think of you, against my will, you and your broken myths. of the day this same sea swallowed your battalion of tiny green boys,all stoically posing for bullets. you pointed their guns at the waves, and laughed.

could the light shine brighter? fetch me my glasses.

thank you. yes, better now. I rock on my heels, I assure you, not with excitement for your approach nor the pure joy of rhythm, but from the fatigue settled deep in my bones that has left me wanting nothing more from this beach or this sky, or from you. oh to be the sun that burns your skin. those blisters need ointment. ten miles from here, the trees have fled, bricks bloom into red puffs of powder, and the monuments slump under the shame of their architect.

the heat is rolling towards us.
it will stop.
impossible.
it has to stop.
untrue.
believe.
believe? we are no better than they. no more intelligent, no better-looking, certainly no kinder. we offered a dying world nothing, and in repayment we have kept our breath these few seconds more. tonight my fingers will tear her shadow from the wall.

listen to the roar behind you.
how wet the ocean stays.

what a comfort.