Vesper X

Quomodo cecidisti, fili aurorae?

Lamentemur.

Are we but shades

Cathartically shed on

A camera obscura of sorts

Capsized, washed out,

Indistinct and begrimed

Here we must grovel

With dignity under a

Still peephole.

Are we mere statues

Clustered in our glasshouses

- a box with no confession -

To kneel under a bronze law?

But the bronze law melts down here

As the smoking gun inhales.

There's only ourselves

And the deaf walls moving in on us;

Only ourselves and our questions snapped at

Only ourselves, sécreted once they're secréted.

We are our own time-bomb flowers

As we're cluttering

A hothouse in a blind spot,

A mass grave

That's manured with scandal

In no sun