Trains

I remember the way you told me about the first time
Death kicked down your door without an invitation,
expecting more than a honey bribe to pass on by.

the way how the moon seemed dimmer and

how your hands felt smaller and the wind felt thicker so that every time the angels tried to

bury your hands in gifts they just came up empty.

The way the salty rivers running down your cheeks

could never quite capture the overwhelming essence of your sea-heart,

but how one day you were going to use them to sail right into that golden orb

and demand its jewels to for one more fleeting moment with those you loved.

I remember the way you said bullets move faster than prayers,

the way you said praying to each other was

more powerful than praying to the one we had made out of clay
and so we spent all night

creating new angels out of  sounds we heard the faucet make

as it methodically dripped in our bathroom sink,

our synchronized heart beats

washing away the existence of a paradise lost.
This is our truth.

Trains never come on time,
someone should have told you that.