QUOTE : <i>after Neruda</i><br /><br />a bronze song, something undone, salvia,<br />a crushed butterfly.<br />It is the blood on a light bulb, the seventh sadness,<br />a fluctuation that closes oceans and eyes.<br />The vermilion and solitary luminary<br />shimmies and singes the feathers of the aviary.<br /><br />Moon, the clock’s word, dear mother, ruin, rain.<br /><br />— Simone Muench, “Elegy for the Unsaid,” <i>Lampblack & Ash: Poems</i>. (Sarabande Books; First Edition edition November 1, 2005)