like some dance at once sacred then profane
the rays of the sun tangible in her eyes
and in the setting of them
as if Venus never decorated the sky
incandescing in our memory like a Roman candle gutters and burns
for to leave fireflies all streaming vivid chaos
in their wake
and the child within us laughing
no word of a lie
we were deaf as a sepulchre speaking
and we did not hear her die
Flynnpoetry 