Friday, June 09, 2006

#47: June 9, 2006

The setting sun was mirrored in their eyes
and its light, strewn on atmospheric dust,
chameleoned from rose to red to rust,
the way a cup of blood darkens and dries.

They sat and watched, stone-faced, astonished, still,
dangling their naked feet over the cliff.
The far waves in the bay tossed a small skiff
as the sun dipped behind enclosing hills.

Their nostrils smarting from the salty tang
of seawater, they heard the roar of waves
like some great beast, the rocks its gnashing teeth
set to devour. They stood and kissed, then sprang
into the air, hand in hand, to their graves,
beyond the reach of faith, doubt and belief.

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