When the saints went

what remained: barren stalks bowing heads by the field-full. rusty air conditioners dripping from warped windowsills. rock formations retaining roots. hollowed out caves and dog stumps forced ragged, toothy grins. all ablaze. a laser show shot hot through the tinny night. every husk wore a well lit protrusion. every breath an asthmatic thrush more material than the silence that surrounds each carcass now: voided prayer: cold arthritic grating: remembering notions of breath. saints: offer a hand to a wheezing shadow: wish for someone to hold before the sure, sudden twilight.