MARI

As they stepped away from a crowd of crushing shoppers
Past fashionable lamps and iron sculptures
Their beauty dwarfing the sky
They spoke the idiomatic language of the saints

In which words are secret chimes you ring in the night
In which words are the embers you awake from ashen slumber
In which words seek each other like souls after dying
In which words seek each other like hands in a fire
In which words like your whispers allow vision in the dark
In which words like your daydreams are the color of
Stained-glass windows exploding in the rain
In which words will announce the funeral of the sun

And silently there was meaning to the laughter
Of the girls
In the shoe store
In December.