Sitting at a funeral;
in ashes, you search-
the faces of dead. To
shut down the apostrophes.
How far was your home,
you don’t want to
go back? A black moon
invites the tallest flare-
of the sun. Bright
death will ask no compensation.
You can travel over half-
memories of frozen pain.
Hourglass to Kundo clocks,
you were collecting all the
souvenirs to stall the
translations from coast to coast.