The Evening Falls

The evening falls
and strange voices
flutter, like petals
through a graveyard.
The church bells peal
into the distances.
The candle seeps
and it's flames fatten
jiving in the cold air,
let your soul stretch tight
across the sky and flare
outward like a Chinese sunrise.

Remeber this remember me
Before they come heavy.
Swinging gates wide open
on raw hinges.
You'll be plucked before maturity,
unripe and snatched by impatient hands
torn off and bruised, left to fester
half sunk half eaten, plundered.
Lying unflowed and frail
waiting to be carried afar
to desolate pitiless wastes
by strange white birds
with gleaming eyes.