Thus came silence

This resplendent animation is a
racket, a Three-card Monte that flows as
a scarlet ribbon but always congeals
as a skeleton in the burial
soil, a cranium broken to let all
the milk doves free. This land of marrow is
a cankerous ruse of resurgence, a
slow dismantling of this concealed reach, like
parents taking down their kids Meccano
set. These bones are a magicians top hat,
you can grab at the rabbit’s ear of spring;
poof! It’ll disappear in a puff of smoke.
Beyond the sky of winter’s chill there lies
a clot of midnight and orchid sunset.

– Grant Tarbard