Far From These Things

by kholinar

Beholden,
she backs away
till the stars
compress around
his vision.
Pictures throw themselves
to the ground,
or hang
in suspicious effigy.
A knife’s edge
tears and falls away
with Time’s division.
His aria fails, expression in
flute fingering caresses,
to recall
the sound of her steps
or the sense of her shape
draped in darkness.

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