I speak in
words
cremated,
scattered
with the ashes
of a
burning
cathedral.

My fathers
niche of combat
lingers
in brainwaves
bonded
and bleeding

A harp string
plucked
at birth
in a twilight frost
still humming
on the thawing
lawn

Fossils
of claws
dragging
tombstones
crumble
in petals
of the black rose
gifted