embers of memory
rusted infrastructure
The tracks whisper
beneath slipped shadows of yesterday’s rain,
an orchestra in disheveled syncopation,
carpenters’ applause met with echoes,
an echo they cannot hear.
Buildings wear their rust like
a poet adorned in forgotten clocks; aoidos silent,
as architecture crumbles in laughter,
concrete sighs and iron songs:
"Make peace with the smiles of your machines."