conchaka falls
like time
like tears
curses me her master
her crumple tower
bends
its ears
turn twists in the nighted sky
petal pure
late stars appear where roof stood
and in the swelter-soon
of desert black ice
comes cool
comes light
and reflections
on the summer
of our dissed-content
—
Like Conan to Numedides your humble barbarian minstrel proffers verse on The Exiles’ (recent) Journey, with no balm in shared loss. Despite missing pieces, we have ultimately survived. Thank you for reading!