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August began its slow descent

Into the arms of winter

Elongated shadows swept across rocks

As they danced in starlight

White hands yearned to stifle

The chimes of children's cheer

That hung in the air

Like linen soaked in blood

Their pink palms blistered

Forced to grasp ragged ropes

Wrestling with lurching sails

Of anchored virgin vessels

But urgent hands clawed the hulls

And snatched them from the shore

Sand lacerated unmarred skin

That bled beneath waves

Laughter faltered in their mouths

And was torn from their throats

Until clouded milk-white eyes

Extinguished newborn stars

Upon each day that followed from August to July

Lines of crooked mourners bent double across the bay

Lifeless flowers bled through silver foam

Abandoned by listless hands bereft of faith

Their bones grew old and wretched

Black teeth crumbled into dust

Grey rags fluttered in silence

The last lament of forgotten love

He does not bleed

For the lives he stole

No one grieves

For the lives he stole