You survive in them, they survive in you.
Separate strands of the same garment
gather to inter Gallen’s obedient Lady.
Enshrouded in watermelon roses and salt,
we now know how petals fall apart.
Our empty ears seek blips in the silence
and a consolatory voice’s frequency.
Revealed in a nebula of smoke,
three appeals are stuck in dry throats,
struggling to be acknowledged and answered.
But the book of bounty hides within our folds,
every last sentence…every last word.