The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
There is rarely a discernible sound of release,
no whoosh or pop as bodies bend away from each other.
Only silence hears the songs of bones creaking, cracking -
the suction between souls unmistakable
as they separate themselves from awe.
Shuddered hearts, shattering, make no noise -
they only break slowly from beauty's bereft ache,
an unwilling backward glance,
a keening far too quiet to draw attention
to these uttered moans,
these inward wailings.
there is music rising,
although we shall no longer dance together,
wild inside this wavering mist.