In the open wounds of blossom and
fresh green, the seal calls him.
He sees the water
grow hard as clear glass.
A limping melancholy rainstorm
bobbing on barren ground
no longer saves anything.
The doors banged closed.
Wind rustles overhead.
The vacuum expands.
A dream of warmth and sorrow
shatters against clear glass.
Shrivels and withers to the stillness of ashes.