Mary wears a locket around her neck. She says it was her mother's. Her father's face is a stoic war wound. She says back then they had it all figured out. She hopes if she wears it close to her heart organ long enough it will manifest...something.
We're all looking for crystal balls;
All searching for cool nights with lyrics haunting enough
To make the
Hair on the back of our arms stand up.
We're aching
To unstitch our lungs,
To cough up anthologies
Coated in
Dust birds
And release
Them into the translucent
Atmosphere.
Like smoke.
Then
Inhale again.
Phoenix.
And you will search this
For more meaning
Than I mean for it to mean;
For more meaning
Than
I will ever
Have the capacity
To've meant.
We're all looking for more than dust,
And the
Elusive
Way
Out;
For something
Transcendent
And
Sent.
