- Vol. 05
- Chapter 06
Image by Anthony Intraversato
There Are No LilacsAfter 'The Waste Land' – TS Eliot
There are no lilacs. Lies, in April – forgetful ashfalls delay us.
Everywhere, elegies quicken in the dead land that I stand above.
My dull eyes in the ombre evening surprise me with neon.
Pinpricked, the towers are a horizon suffused with my vertigo.
Heap of broken images the last sun beats on.
I don’t read just words on screen, but the wind’s message: the ferrous tang.
I am the shadow on the red rock, rising. Hope of rain.
There Are No Lilacs
Dry dust gritting my teeth, the vision of lilacs. Your tears.
Forgotten gardens stir memory and desire as I look into
the heart of light.