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by Aidan Aboud

Ethereal — I view thee through mirrors as the reflection

In the amber decanters glinting — mahogany sunshine, with velvet

Sutures, those that hold thy soul, thy very disposition together with:

Fulfillment in empty promises; The subtle jaundiced glint

Hiding in your eyes — You idolize these now

“My deus — I can hold it in my hands. Where is your God, then?”

I hold my face to the light — turning cheek to cheek,

Indolence in riches burrows, drives furrows into your face.

Stately manner veils something deeper.

Your haunting cheekbones, gaunt against infinity, declare

A question that you cannot answer. You know its solution.

Your haunting presence, like a thinning page put to fire

Lustre tarnished by those puerile urges, prancing,

You can sense the pendulum: tick, tick, tick,

No spectre rattles in its chains but thine own,

Time is nought to be considered — sadly, remaining linear.

I resolved my nisus to religion — guiding my arrow

To its mark, your skin remains: pale, thinly, sickly, sallow,

You grind yourself against the wheel,

Your friction nonexistent, you fall to

dust.

I cannot but hope for solace in eternity,

Whereas thou may but hope to find none.