Unmourned

You were not present.
Far from the pallid sky?
in the graveyard,
the marbled tears
had become the eyes.

The meanness of the grill.
It will not fix the sun.
I stand by a river,
which was very thirsty?
very deep.

The silent flight of a
white falcon takes a dive?
for the darkned moon.
The wingless poem soars high
to catch the words.

The jacarandas were trumpeting
in blue flowers, of the return
of demigods.