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Syntax Issue 10
Denver Syntax
{the abandoned}
  aleah sato


They resurrect the walls
by whispering strange spells.
They wash the basin; in it, clothes
set out for Sunday have paled.
It is not enough to hope for water;
In a dry season, death opens its chasm.
When all feels lost to indemnity,
they move hands over books,
hoping some lines, the forgotten
they adored, would offer solace.
They fade like gossamer -
moth wings hold more color
than the skin of these lovers.
The once golden strands of her hair
now chime with their brittle spines.
No light keeps company;
no curtain opens to a knocking door.
They prop the furniture,
crack kindling for the missing hearth.
They wait for the sons and daughters
to come home. They wait.