@d-pendIn stark contrast,
the amber sun's candled pinpoints
pierce unevenly miasmic curtains
and a woman walks between,
hovering gaseous over the striped world.
Yearning to osmose at canine's altar,
some grimeless acceptance that redeems:
she is silent under a decade of dust,
her mind quieter than footsteps
through snow taken begrudgingly.
As her walking conjures, piecemeal,
a screenplay fuzzed with time,
the ochre strobe of sentiment
beckons memory soft, sublime.
To be safe in a pond of people
that laugh and curse through muck,
that cry and sing together,
brings wistful tears of cursèd luck.
Of all the hopeless renegades,
of all the drownèd stars—
Why must I recount the tales
of Earth to paltry Mars?
She ponders and she paces,
pup anxious licks her hand.
I am last among the faces,
to walk the Earth unmanned.
@d-pend