Fortunes Lot

In the heat of dreams and worlds lost,
I know the one I have forgotten.

Turmoils rush, and fortunes rust
silver oxide,
and men we’ve known longer.

The pertinent lies,
implacable eyes
that once befell my brother-
eyes of cold,
and lonely roads,
and stories I left my heart in.

Heart left behind,
in gormless binds,
my toes seep oil and water.

My forlorn stage,
your bygone grace-
all left,
a broken mother.

Where does the arrow fly,
to pierce your cry?
Shaft, or feather,
or downcast weather-
what drives the sharpened egress?

So burst from me,
with loving flee-
I seek my somber shadow.

Goodbye, my friend.

Within my head,
we still wait
in gentle rustication.